An Escort's Journey
by Littleminnie
Summary: Asra is a young woman entrusted into Altair's care but the simple journey they take turns out to be fraught with challenges, forcing Altair to confront both his grim past and fight for his future, or else be left with nothing.
1. Chapter 1 Prologue

**Prologue**

The parts before the dividing line contain spoilers, please be aware. Everything after that is clear. Enjoy!

* * *

It was late September in the year of 1192 and the Third Crusade was only just over.

King Richard had signed a treaty with Prince Saladin to allow Christians a free passage into the Holy Lands without fear of admonition. This news was met with divided opinions but for the most part, there was content with the decision. It would mean peace for now, at least.

Life had also changed for a certain group of people in the stronghold at Masyaf.

Altaïr of the Hashashin had killed his corrupt master Al Mualim. Al Mualim had only ever wanted power for himself and was willing to go against all the tenants of the Assassins Creed to achieve his goal. Altaïr had stopped him before he had a chance to do anymore damage, even though the damage had been done in many places already.

In the absence of an official master, the people of Masyaf and the Brotherhood had agreed that Altaïr should take over the role. He had been the one to ultimately save them, he was the finest Assassin that the Brotherhood had trained for a long time and most of all; He was a changed man with a new knowledge for leadership. There were only a few men who disagreed but they were mostly inexperienced Assassins who were jealous of his skill and bitter about his previous wrong doings.

But to Altaïr himself, one person's opinion mattered to him more than anyone else's:

Malik's.

Malik had forgiven him for terrible mistakes like only a true friend would and for that, Altaïr was ever grateful. Malik had stayed loyal to the end, even under the power of the Piece of Eden that Al Mualim had commanded so ruthlessly….

* * *

"Safety and peace be upon you brother." Altaïr said as he joined Malik in his chambers, located in the main tower of Masyaf's great stronghold. 

"And upon you also, Altaïr." He replied, turning around to face his friend and Brother in Arms.

Altaïr nodded swiftly before stealing a glance at the place where his friend's left arm should have been. There was but a stump there now, with the sleeve of his robe tied in a knot below it, covering it.

Internally, he winced. It has been his fault and he still felt the weight of guilt upon him. But he quickly dispelled this thought from his head and said,

"I have something to ask of you Malik"

"Anything brother, be out with it." He replied.

Altaïr did not hesitate. "I need to know how you feel about me becoming the Master of our Brotherhood. The opinion of every person here counts but yours hold the most value to me."

Malik turned directly to him and smiled, "I am honoured that you feel that way Altaïr. But you already know my opinions on this matter." His brows screwed up in mock severity.

Altaïr did not speak.

Malik took his silence for lack of realisation. It was in fact, more that Altaïr did not want to presume so fast. He was a naturally cautious man. Malik gave a quick sigh.

"Of course I agree Altaïr! I couldn't think of anyone who I would want or trust more to lead our Brotherhood into greatness. I will rest at ease with you at the helm."

Altaïr's silence changed to elation when he finally heard, from Malik himself, that he felt that way.

"Malik, I will not fail our Brotherhood." He said with determination set deep into his eyes.

"I know you will not Altaïr." Malik replied with equal determination.

Altaïr nodded his head silently and turned on his heel to leave. He had just reached the door before Malik's voice made him stop.

"Altaïr, I have a favour to ask of you now." Malik looked as if he found this a hard topic to talk about.

"You know I will do all I can to help you." Altaïr said sincerely, turning back to face him.

"Thank you Altaïr." He paused for a second, pondering, before continuing.

His tone was bitter now.

"It is regarding my cousin, Asra. Her father -my uncle- is a man unfit to walk the earth as we do. He gambles excessively, he is forever in a drunken world of his own and he is violent. Violent towards Asra on occasions too." His gaze was hard. He obviously cared very much for his cousin, Altaïr thought but it did not require an Assassin to discover that. It was etched into every line on his face.

"What is it that you'll have me do? Is your Uncle truly no longer fit to walk this earth? Will it be my job to help him leave?" Altaïr asked swiftly, intrigue laced into his strong words.

"No, no, nothing like that." Malik dismissed, with a quick wave of his hand. He paused again, unsure of how to continue.

"I actually want you to escort her away Altaïr."

"Escort?" Altaïr replied incredulously. "'Escorting' tends not to be part of my job."

"I know Altaïr but I wouldn't ask this of you if I did not need to. I would feel safer knowing that Asra was in capable hands."

Altaïr could say nothing to this. His friend was in need and openly asking, of course there was no room for refusal. Refusing had never crossed Altaïr's mind.

"You know I will do it Malik. Where I am to take her? And why?" Malik began to explain.

"A few nights ago, while I was visiting my uncle in one of his frequent drunken stupors, he let it slip to me that he had grand 'plans' for my cousin." His voice was infused with such disgust that the atmosphere was tangible. "I pressed him for more information, which was not hard to do considering his state and my manipulation skills. He told me all about his plans to sell Asra, his only daughter, to a soldier's brothel in Jerusalem. A brothel, can you believe?! And his own daughter!" Malik no longer took any care to hide his emotions. This situation offended his very being.

"I can never allow him to do such a thing to Asra. She is but nineteen and far too pretty. The soldiers would never leave her alone. The thought of them hurting or touching my cousin in any way makes me want to kill them all know." His fist was clenched tightly at his side.

"Peace my brother." Altaïr said calmly. "I understand your feelings. Where am I to take her?"

"To Berothai. It is far, far away. Away from her father."

"Berothai..." Altaïr repeated, running the name through his head, waiting for a match or some glimmer of recognition. The only thing he could recall was that it was beyond Damascus. In that case, it would take him a fair while to reach it, perhaps three weeks or more.

The prospect of travelling was an enjoyable one for Altaïr. He was not a talkative man and travelling allowed him to wade through his own thoughts in solitude. It was simply him and Khalil, his loyal horse, whom he loved as much as he could love another being.

But this time, it would be different. He would have company and this company would depend upon _him_ for safety. He was not fazed by such a thing, he was an adaptable man.

"I am not so familiar with Berothai, Malik; I know it is beyond Damascus but by what distance?"

"It is only around 30 miles beyond, not too far." Altaïr murmured his agreement; it wouldn't be a hard journey. Malik continued: "I have arranged for a relative of mine in Berothai to take Asra in, all you need to do is get Asra there safely."

"I will set out immediately my friend. Tell me where to find Asra and I shall go now."

"I have taken care of that my friend." Malik grinned, his previous anger slightly appeased. "I've arranged for her to meet you tonight in Jerusalem, in front of the main fountain, near the Souk in the wealthier part of the district."

"You seemed to know I wouldn't refuse, Malik." Altaïr noted with humour in his eyes.

"I had my suspicions that you would help. Were you ever going to refuse me?"

"Of course not." Altaïr replied quickly, almost offended.

"Exactly." Malik said, winking. He stepped away from Altaïr and turned to a large chest at the foot of a simple bed. The lid was already open and resting upon the framework of the bed, no doubt because it was hard to lift with only one arm. He deftly rooted around inside until he came up with a small pouch, made of a course leather and tied with a red silk cord.

"Take this." He said, pushing it into Altaïr's hand.

"Brother, I cannot." Altaïr said forcefully, for he had felt the distinctive weight of gold.

"It is the least I can do. Asra will require care throughout the journey, will she not?" Malik asked, smiling at him with his eyebrows raised questioningly.

Altair's expression softened. "I suppose she will." He replied, laughing. "She will be cared for like no other. I have no doubt that I will answer to you if that is not the case."

"Indeed you will." He said, with what sounded like an underlying threat.

"You know you have nothing to worry about brother." He made a movement to go. "I must take my leave now Malik, you have not given me much time to prepare." He said jokingly.

"Time is of the essence Altaïr." He laughed. "Good luck."

"Thank you."

"And look after her." He was not fooling around now.

"You know I will."

Altaïr gave a quick nod of his head, attached the money purse to the leather throng around his waist and gently pushed aside the door.

Then he was gone.

"May Allah keep them safe." Malik breathed. He sat down at his desk, rested his head on his hand and closed his eyes


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It was late at night and deadly silent. I was standing next to a small fountain in the centre of Jerusalem and I was completely alone. I could hear the distant sounds of merry making in the local inns but I could see nothing, not even the moon. The wind seemed like it dared not blow. I had been standing there for an age and was starting to feel uncomfortable. Jerusalem at night was not a safe place for a woman to be, especially alone. I was debating whether to call this whole cryptic meeting off and return home but a strange feeling compelled me to wait a while longer. Malik _had_ said it was important. I'd received from him a quickly scrawled note stating for me to wait at this fountain and hour after midnight. He'd added at the bottom:

'Be reasonable Asra, and don't ask any questions.'

I will be the one to decide how reasonable I was, I thought defiantly. Malik shouldn't expect me to be too compliant at such a late time when it was so cold and miserable. I held the little piece of parchment in my fist and waited.

The minutes ticked by and I was all but ready to leave when I suddenly spotted a slight movement in front of me. I waited silently, not even daring to breathe…

A tall man stepped out from the shadows of a long empty market stall, dressed in flowing robes and a hood that obscured his eyes. I couldn't stop myself from imaging that they were dark and brooding, reflecting his demeanour. But I didn't know why I suddenly thought about it; I could hardly see a hand over my face in this near moonless night, let alone this man's eyes under his hood. But it was strange that he suddenly gave me this feeling, I had never met him before, yet I'd already classed him. I also got an overwhelming feeling that he was inherently dangerous. The way he kept his head down, allowing the hood to hide him completely. The way that he swiftly slid around the wooden stall with such precision and deftness. And the way that he looked up at me.

My first impressions were intimidating to say the least.

The man started to make his way towards me with slow, precise steps, as if every movement he made was carefully calculated and planned before hand. I shivered silently. I pulled my shawl further around my body in response but I knew that the shiver had nothing to do with the cold. After what seemed like an age, the man reached the fountain I was standing next to and looked me in the eye. He seemed to make no attempt to speak, so I nervously started the exchange.

"Are you the one they call Altaïr Ibn La-Ahad?" I asked tentatively, praying that the answer was yes. At least then I would know he was not a man here for some other untoward purpose…

"I am." He replied plainly, not looking at me directly. His gaze was everywhere around me; directed at rooftops and down into the alleys, as if checking for any sign of life or movement. He was like a cautious animal, checking to make sure the area was safe for the moment.

I think I breathed a quick sigh of relief; he _was_ the man I was meant to meet. All was well for now… It was only then that I noticed a long, imposing sword attached to his left side and a variety of weaponry upon his broad chest, that he absent mindedly stroked, the way a man might caress his lover's cheek. The weapons did not scare me like it should; instead it made me feel safer in his presence… I was intrigued as to why they were there though, but that would have to wait until later. 'Don't ask questions' was imprinted upon my mind for the moment.

I was about to open my mouth to speak again but his eyes were now locked to mine and I got the feeling he thought it was his turn to speak again. I was not about to disagree.

"You are Asra, are you not?" He did not wait for my reply. "I have come here as a favour to friend known to both of us." He looked at me with slight scrutiny in his eyes, as if he wasn't sure whether I was informed or not.

"Yes, my cousin Malik has sent you." I replied quietly. I was hesitant to speak further as I did not have any more information to give him. I myself did not know the reason for this meeting. My cousin had told me to wait here at this time but he had neglected to tell me why. But I trusted my cousin unlike any other person and so I followed his orders and did not ask any questions, like the good, obedient cousin I was.

The man called Altaïr was looking away again, as if he was giving me time to collect my thoughts without interruption. My eyes quickly shot down his body. I was trying to imprint his image upon my mind. He intrigued me. When my gaze has reached his hands, I let out an inaudible gasp. He had no ring finger on his left hand. All that was left was a stump with a slightly mangled end. Not pleasant to look at but by no means shocking, so I didn't know why it surprised me so much. Since when had missing digits been a cause for alarm? But something about this triggered a stir in my mind; I just couldn't bring it to the surface. I did not dwell on it. I had to resume the conversation before the silence became embarrassing. I also quite wanted to hear his voice again. It was smooth and pleasant, the kind of voice that made women eager to listen. I mentally laughed at myself. I'd only just met him.

"So, do you care to tell me was this meeting is for?" We had been keeping our voices low to preserve the calm.

"No."

His abruptness caught me off guard and my voice began to rise.

"Why not?! I believe this concerns me as much as it does you!"

"I think not. Well, for now anyway."

I never saw it coming.

Suddenly, he launched towards me at lightning speed, closing the gap between us and clamped his hand around my mouth to stifle the scream rising in my throat. With his right hand remaining closed over my mouth, he used the other to grab my shawl from around my shoulders, before wrapping it firmly around my mouth as a gag. He removed his hand and I tried to scream. No sound came out. My shawl was a very efficient sound muffler, I noted in my panic. There was no way I was going to be able to inform someone of my whereabouts. Maybe a full frontal attack, perhaps he wouldn't be expecting me to fight back, although, he did not look like the kind of man to underestimate anything. Still I had to try.

As if in response to my thoughts, he hastily grabbed my arms and clamped them to my sides, in anticipation of the attack I was about to launch on his face. He was too fast for me. I could think of nothing now save the sudden thought that I would never see Malik again. I even spared a thought for my father. I wouldn't miss him but I still spared him a thought in the face of death.

The thoughts were short lived, as I was still half blinded by panic. How could Malik have misjudged this man's character to such an extent that he trusted him enough to meet me in the dead of night? I hoped he wouldn't blame himself though; it wasn't Malik's fault. Malik wouldn't do something like this to me intentionally. Maybe this wasn't even the man I was supposed to meet and I'd been tricked.

The man suddenly cut through the dead silence with a short, low whistle. I tried to kick him in the shins but my flimsy shoe failed me and my foot came off far worse. I doubt he even felt anything. Cursing the pain in my toe, I brought my arms up quickly and tried to push him away but his steely fist was clamped around my shoulders and he had pulled me into his body to restrict my movement further.

Restricted as I was, it did not stop me from craning my head to watch a stunning black horse trotting towards us, its bridle swinging slowly with its every movement. It whinnied softly at Altaïr as it reached us and I realised in horror that this horse must have been what Altaïr has whistled for.

I wasn't even going to die in my own hometown.

As the beautiful horse came up beside us, Altaïr clasped his hands around my waist and lifted me up as if I was no more than a feather and gently placed me at the front of the saddle.

Altaïr spared a quick glance around his shoulder before putting both hands on the horse's back and raising himself effortlessly into the saddle behind me. He grabbed the bridle from in front of me and signalled to the horse to move forwards with a soft click. The horse responded immediately by stamping its hoof a few times and setting off at a trot.

My mind was racing. Could I jump off now? He had not bound my hands but I realised it was because he knew full well that he could capture me, should I attempt to run. His litheness was incredible; I had no doubt in his retrieval ability. His arms were also resting near my hips, where the bridle was laying which meant that he would sense my slightest movement and foil any plan I had. These hopeless thoughts forced small tears out of my eyes that I was instantly ashamed of. I never cried and no matter how dire the situation was, I shouldn't give in. I steeled myself for whatever should come my way. I would never give him the satisfaction of knowing he had broken me. With this, I pressed my lips together and held my head high and cursed this man with every terrible word I could think of while we approached the city gates.

I could feel him, tense behind me, but I knew he wasn't going to stop. I wasn't going to get off and he wasn't going to let me go…

My situation was dire.

* * *

I hope you enjoy this story as I've had a ridiculous amount of fun writing it. I've never delved into Fan fiction before this but Assassins Creed really inspired me.

Just a quick note, I sincerely want to apologise for any spoilers during the prologue. A [lovely person has pointed it out to me that I may have spoiled quite a bit for people who haven't finished the game. So, if you are one of those people, I'm so sorry, I should have thought about it more.

Whether you've enjoyed the chapters or not, please do review. It helps me a lot to improve as I've only been writing for a short time.

Thanks guys ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

As the imposing city gates came into full view, with their magnificent banners draped from the highest point, Altaïr slowed the horse down to a gentle walk. His arms were gripping the reigns tightly; I could feel the powerful muscles in his arm tighten.

He was getting prepared for a fight.

I squinted into the night and realised it was because we were approaching a heavily guarded area; the way in and out of Jerusalem. My brain began to speed up again; I desperately needed to alert the guards.

It was as if he knew exactly what I was thinking, he leant forward and whispered gently into my right ear: "Do not make a sound. I am not going to hurt you. I will explain everything when we get out of Jerusalem." Malik's advice of 'don't ask any questions' suddenly flashed in my mind. Altaïr pulled the shawl off from around my mouth but replaced it with his hand. It smelt of leather.

"Do you swear not to scream?" He asked quietly. I don't know whether it was a technique he had employed but something in his voice made me trust him. There was no malice or threat in what he said, only what sounded like truth. I relaxed slightly and nodded. He removed his hand and picked up the reigns again. I made an extra effort not to touch him further as he was pressed very close to me and it made me tense. He laughed quietly as he picked up on this. "I will not do anything dishonourable to you Asra, you have my word."

"Yes well, your actions so far have not inspired much confidence." I hissed back viciously.

From the sound of his voice, I imagined he was grinning.

"For that, I do apologise, I will explain later." His voice hardened slightly as he spotted the first guard. "Don't make any movement. Stay as still as you can. I really do not want to fight. It will put you in unnecessary danger."

I sniffed at him and jerked my head away from his direction. The lovely horse ambled obediently on. We were moving painfully slowly.

The guards were posted in a careful formation: four placed on the inside of the gate, each one opposite one another in twos and spaced evenly apart, then, on the other side – the way into Jerusalem – there were four lined up in a row, arms folded and weapons starkly displayed on their hips. I'm sure that was not counting archers lined up on the roofs.

That made six in full view. There were probably a few more that were patrolling the district close by, possibly in excess of ten in that case, not including possible archers... Altaïr was one man, despite the feeling I got from him, I did not think he could take on ten men and survive.

As we came up beside the first set of four guards, I had to repress the feeling to shout. I was still wary of Altaïr. All he'd given me were words and I needed answers and actions. However, I controlled myself as we sauntered on. I assumed Altaïr would die at the hands of so many guards and I did not want the death of someone upon my conscience. So I kept my lips grimly pursed.

The guards closest to us did not seem to be bothered by our presence. Some of them were yawning widely and others were propped up against buildings, their hands resting lazily on the hilts of their swords, all of them obviously tired and bored. Their indifference was not acceptable, I thought, they were rendering themselves useless if they weren't checking the traffic in and out of the city.

But as we came to the main four guards, I could see why they felt they could relax. It was a completely different situation at the main gate. All four men were wide awake and alert and no one was slouching or fidgeting. They were the image of discipline. And they were ready to fight. Their imposing forms were barely illuminated by the poor light.

I jumped as one of the guards voices suddenly rang out through the darkness. Altaïr was impassive.

"Halt! State your business. Why do you leave so late?" The one in the middle called; his voice harsh against the relative calm of the night.

"My wife is ill and in need of a physician. I am setting off late to avoid the heat of the day." Altaïr called back, his voice a lovely contrast to that of the guards. I'd tensed at the word 'wife'. This story was going to become complicated.

He slowed the horse down to a stop just in front of the gates and looked at the four guards staring back at him.

"Are there not enough physicians' in this huge city for your liking?" One of the guards mocked.

"I simply have my own preferences, as does my wife." Altaïr replied, irritated by the guards' prying.

"What is wrong with this woman of yours then?"

The guard who had just spoken came up to me and tried to pull the shawl away from my body to run a quick check. An idea that I greatly opposed, as I'd only put it around me a few seconds before and it was cold. I resisted his tugging. "Let go of it!" I shouted.

"Shut up woman!" He launched back. "Know when to speak!"

"Do not talk to her that way." Altaïr whispered back menacingly, looking down at the man from his vantage point upon the horse.

"I will talk to a woman any way I want!" The guard said angrily. "And you will not pass." He spat.

"I think we will." Altaïr said threateningly, his lovely voice rich with anger.

It all happened very slowly for me.

Altaïr suddenly kicked the horse sharply in the flanks and he sprang into life, shooting forward in surprise and throwing me forwards with a jerk. At the same time, Altaïr had reached behind him and brought out a short, ornate sword and ruthlessly swiped it across the guard's neck in one fluid, deadly motion.

The guard cried out in agony and fell, gurgling horribly, to the floor while dark, red blood sprayed out pitifully onto the ground, staining it as it flowed slowly across the dirt. His comrades' eyes were wide with shock. They shouted out in anger and fear and searched for their blades with their shaking hands but Altaïr was far too quick for them, he grabbed me around the waist to support me and quickly re-sheathed his short sword. He hastily shouted "Hold on!" before grabbing the dropped reigns with his free left hand as the horse launched forward, straight through the shock stricken guards and out into the vast land beyond the Jerusalem gates.

Things began to speed up fast and I instantly took heed to what he said and grappled for any sort of hold on the otherwise smooth surface of the saddle. The horse started gaining real speed and the guards behind us were soon left wildly shouting for support as we raced on into the distance.

My hear t began to race in my chest, as if it was desperately trying to match the speed of the horse beneath us. It pounded as we flew up the wide incline into the vast country in front and Altaïr encouraged the speed by shouting out to the horse energetically, goading it forward. I'd never felt so free yet so bound at the same time. The speed was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time but it felt wonderful as the wind whipped against my face.

The horse's hooves pounded strongly on the arid earth as we came to flatter land. The sparse vegetation and rock formations seemed to blur into one as we galloped onwards, the horse seemed to have boundless energy; its pace did not falter.

We carried on at this immense pace for a few more minutes before I felt Altaïr's body twist around as he glanced behind him. He deemed the area to be safe and free from guards and so he started to make low, melodic clicking sounds. The horse's ears flicked up inquisitively and it began to slow rapidly down, the vegetation becoming more and more solid as the speed decreased. I felt a strange sense of disappointment as the adrenalin I'd felt drained from me. I was awash with emotions yet Altaïr seemed indifferent. I couldn't feel his breathing increase, or his heart start to thump. He acted as if he'd only been for a gentle walk around the market, not a high speed escape from a huge city with a captive on his horse. This was obviously something he did regularly, I thought to myself with a snide smile.

Now that we were out of the city, my thoughts suddenly snapped back to the reason for why we had left. I still didn't know and I hated being in the dark. As we gently glided into a canter, I trusted my voice enough to speak. "Altaïr, tell me what's going on." I said quietly.

He remained silent.

"Now." I growled.

"You are rather impatient, don't you think?"

"I think I am well within my rights to know, correct me if I'm wrong. You have just stolen me away from my home." I bit back. I was angry. I was uncomfortable and most of all, I was exhausted. I was sitting straight up, as if a pole was stuck to my back. I didn't want to touch him; it was far too friendly for my tastes.

"I will tell you in the morning." He said, with a note of unmistakable finality to it.

I was suddenly far too tired to protest; a wave of exhaustion had just washed over me and rendered me unable to fully keep my eyes open.

He heard my yawn and tutted. "I need you well rested Asra. The travelling ahead of us is not light. You can sleep against my shoulder if you wish…"

He felt me stiffen at his suggestion.

"You would be wise to do so." He continued, unperturbed. "As it will be the only place you can sleep. We will not be making camp tonight."

My words were rushed and incomprehensible with tiredness: "No thank you. I will stay awake."

But he knew as well as I that it wouldn't be for long.

I attempted to force my eyes open.

I wanted to keep a watch on Altair and the landscape as it flowed, illuminated by the first glows of the morning sun that had just poked up from beyond the horizon, but I couldn't do it.

Every fibre of my being was weighted down with fatigue and I soon gave into my body's desire. My eyelids fluttered closed and my body slumped backwards into his, letting my mind give in to the relentless callings of sleep.

* * *

Altair felt her body give way. 

He laughed softly and shuffled around in the saddle to find a comfortable position that he could retain for many hours that involved a girl slumped into his right shoulder. He moved his shoulder to ease her head into the hollow by his neck and found this to be infinitely more comfortable than before. Satisfied, he slackened his grip on the reigns and whispered encouragement to Khalil, his ever faithful horse, who had been striving onward courageously tonight. He patted the top of his head and entwined his ears between his fingers. Khalil whickered softly and he smiled. Altair could start to feel the warmth of the new sun creep upon him. It was a beautiful deep colour and it threw a gentle light over the undulating landscape, illuminating it in deep yellows and reds, typical of a Middle Eastern sun rise.

For the first time since he had met her, he could start to truly look at her. The only thing he could see with her in this position was her hair. It was (like most people's) brown, bordering on black. Hers was very much like charcoal as it was illuminated by the rising sun. It was glossy and reminded him of the sheen from a horses coat when it had been freshly cleaned. It was a beautiful dark colour. She must have been one of the women trying out the new hair cleaner from Damascus, as most women and men had to settle for being caked in dirt. He'd heard about it while on a mission in Damascus as he'd walked around the market place. He had been told that it was made from the husk and straw of rice, then burned until ashy and mixed with water. This was then rubbed into your hair and followed by using special oils. Why he remembered such trivial drivel was beyond him but it had stuck in his mind. It was very expensive though but he had a feeling that Malik had given it to her as a gift. Malik was always lavishing gifts upon his cousin.

He re-arranged Asra's shawl over her body because even though the sunlight was basking them all in its rays, it was not warm. Satisfied that she would be suitably warm for the rest of the journey, he gave a quick whistle and started to speed Khalil up slightly. He needed to cover as much distance as possible in as quick a time as could be managed.

He looked down to see if the increase in speed and decrease in smoothness had caused Asra to awaken.

Of course not, he laughed to himself.

She was completely oblivious to the world.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

I awakened to the bright light of the morning sun, now fully above the horizon; a glowing orb in a mottled sky of pinks and blues. It was a beautiful view ruined only when I moved slightly and a twinge shot through my back that caused me to cry out in pain.

"What's wrong?" A man's voice immediately asked.

Shock suddenly seized my heart when I couldn't place the voice. Who was this man? And why was I rocking from side to side? I should be in bed, on solid ground…

Suddenly, just as my breathing threatened to increase, my eyes roved around the gently moving landscape and everything clicked back into place. The man was Altaïr and I was rocking from side to side because I was astride a horse. I deduced that my back was hurting because I'd been sleeping in the oddest position, slumped next to Altaïr with my body hunched inwards.

I suddenly became aware of Altaïr's gentle breathing, blowing rhythmically against my neck, the rise and fall of his chest against my back and the uncomfortable pressure of knife hilts digging into my lower abdomen. And I realised I was still pressed tightly into his arms. I shot forward to try and increase the distance between us and the sudden change in momentum surprised the horse and it instantly came to a jarring stop, neighing loudly.

"I seemed to have surprised you Asra." He said matter-of-factly, his body still close to mine.

I twisted my body as far as I could from my position to try and speak to him directly but I could only see him out of the corner of my eye. He was looking at me with curiosity in his eyes.

"I'm sorry." I breathed. "I was just a bit disorientated when I woke up." I turned my eyes down and moved to look forwards again, slightly embarrassed at my sudden response.

Altaïr didn't reply, instead he deftly dismounted the horse and picked up its bridle from near my arms, leading it on by foot.

"What are you doing?" I asked sheepishly.

"Khalil needs a rest; he's not used to such a weight for so long."

I looked slightly affronted, surely I wasn't that heavy?

"I mean _my_ weight Asra." He said laughing, his rich, deep tone. "You're hardly tipping the balance."

"Ah." I replied, embarrassed. I was really making a fool of myself at the moment. I turned to stare at the horse's immediately interesting head.

Now that it was light enough, I could now see that the horse wasn't black. Instead he was a rich mahogany brown that glimmered spectacularly in the sun light. But instead of a brown mane to match his colouring, he had a pure white one. It was a very strange combination and one that I had not seen before on a horse.

I was getting uncomfortable at the top of the saddle so I shuffled backwards; filling the space Altaïr had just evacuated and tried to put the feet in the stirrups. I couldn't reach them. I looked down and despaired at how far down they were; he must have very long legs. Either that or I had very short ones. I settled for leaving my legs hanging.

Having nothing to hold onto with the bridle in Altaïr's hands, I ran a hand through my long hair; it was all knotted from the speed we'd been travelling during the night. I sighed. It was going to hurt when I got a brush to it.

_If_ I could get hold of a brush, I reminded myself. I still had no idea what was going on or if I was going to return to Jerusalem. The fact that I couldn't distinguish any of the landscape or the twists and turns led me to believe we were already too far outside of Jerusalem to render my sheltered existence useful at all; Inside Jerusalem, I could show you anything. I knew where everything was better than anyone else but beyond the city walls, I was useless. I'd never been outside of Jerusalem; it was my home and my life.

And I'd been taken from it rather swiftly.

"So…. Altaïr…." I said hesitantly. "Where are we going?"

"Berothai." He replied simply.

I stopped, stunned. "But…but Berothai is miles away!" I knew that much.

"Yes it is, and we have covered hardly any distance at all. We still have a way to go."

I didn't really know what else to say. This was no meagre trip out to a neighbouring town. So I turned to a different topic.

"Have I been sleeping long?"

"For around three hours."

"And have we been travelling at this pace for those hours?" I asked, noting the slow amble that the beautiful horse was maintaining.

"For the most part, yes. Hence why we haven't covered as much distance as I intended.

"Oh." I replied lamely.

Altaïr turned to look at me with his deep, brown eyes. I feared their gaze though, for I felt like he could see into my mind with them. He was reading me.

"Why don't you just ask me what I know you want to?" He asked simply.

That was all the encouragement I needed.

"Fine!" I said stonily, the image of Malik's parting words running through my head. To hell with his warning. I would ask as many questions as I required. Anyway, I wasn't even convinced it was Malik's bidding. I thought that I must have been tricked.

"Tell me exactly who sent you to me, who you are, why we're going to Berothai and for what purpose!" My words were quiet but full of the anger that I'd been saving from the previous night's escapades.

"So many questions." He said jovially, "Requiring so many answers."

His eyes suddenly turned hard, "Some of which I can't give you." He finished.

His eyes were intense and I shied away from his gaze, it was still frightening despite my onset of fool hardly courage.

"I see." I replied, regaining my composure. "In that case, give me all the answers you can."

"I was sent to meet you by your cousin Malik; he wants me to take you to some relatives of his in Berothai."

"It could not have been Malik you sent you; he must have intended another person. The person he wanted me to see would not have attacked me." I said assuredly.

"You are right. I don't think he intended me to restrain you like I did. But answer me this. If I had asked you to come with me…Would you have done so?"

"No." I replied brusquely.

"Exactly. That is why I had to take you by force. I needed you out of the city and you would have not come with me, even if I had asked nicely. So that is why I stole you. But I do apologise for the way I treated you."

He was completely sincere and truly apologetic for what he had done the previous night. My anger quickly diminished and I believed him. How could I not? The conviction in his eyes never faltered and Malik's words made more sense when put into context with this man. Like me not asking questions. There was obviously a lot that I shouldn't know because this journey did not really require me to be an active participant. All Malik had wanted me to do was turn up and meet Altaïr. After that, I was required to become the compliant baggage. My anger was now directed at Malik. Why on earth had he wanted me out of the city? Could he not have just told me? Instead of hiring some escort to steal me? I crossed my arms under my breasts and sat there silently, brooding.

"Will I see Malik again?" I asked bristling.

I think he took my question to mean that I was in fear of my life. Quite the opposite actually. I merely wanted to tell Malik what I thought of him at this time. I wasn't best pleased.

"Of course you will Asra. It may not be for a while but I am not going to hurt you, nor shall I let you get hurt. You will be entirely safe. I promise."

Vaguely satisfied with his answer, I mumbled a small, "Thank you." And then turned my focus to the road ahead of us.

I could see men, women and children all shuffling along the ground, kicking up clouds of dust as they moved. The women and children were carrying pots on their heads, full of water and were walking slowly.

I remembered carrying pots on my head as a child. I was never very good and I earned many chidings from my mother when I was clumsy enough to drop them and spill their contents. Still, I looked upon those times fondly because they were the times when my mother was still alive. When she died, my life became one continuous hardship. My father took her death hard and gave beatings which were even harder. He took out all his anger and his sadness on me. He assumed that because I was a girl, I must take over all the household duties, despite my young age.

I was only six and didn't know what I was to do. Of course I had watched my mother go about her household tasks but I was too young to put what I had seen into physical practise. My father couldn't understand this and shouted at me until he was red in the face.

I wasn't the happiest of children.

But I wasn't bitter about it. As much as I held not much more than contempt for my father, I had decided that I would feel slightly grateful for the head start he gave me in life. I was pushed early, it was true but it helped me to become more adept at looking after myself. Others had it far worse than I. I hadn't been poverty stricken; we'd always had just enough money. Not enough for luxuries but enough so that we were comfortably fed. For that I was grateful enough. The people I saw when walking around Jerusalem didn't even have that; the sick and hungry children begging in corners of dirty, crumbling buildings ripped at my conscience. I'd always wanted to give them money but if I'd come home with less funds than I had started with and bills that didn't add up then the consequences would be horrific.

Altaïr must have seen my face. It was no doubt betraying my thoughts.

"Asra?" He asked gently, snapping me from my thoughts. "Are you alright? You're upset."

"No, no." I replied quickly, turning away all the sad thoughts from my mind. "I'm fine. I was just thinking of irrelevant things."

They way that he said things were odd. He stated things, not asked them. Like he already knew what was wrong and didn't require confirmation.

I became aware of the amount of pedestrians increasing tenfold. They reminded me of bees flying to and fro from the hive with various goods cradled in their arms. We must be approaching a town, I thought, where else would these people be coming from?

Again, as if hearing my thoughts, Altaïr confirmed my beliefs. "We are approaching the city of Wadi As-Saisaban, or officially known as…."

"….Jericho." I finished for him, astonishment filling my voice. We had travelled further in 3 hours than I had ever travelled in my whole life.

"Yes. We will stop there to rest and gather supplies. Then we will follow the River Jordan straight up and onwards to the Sea of Chinnereth and onto the direction of Damascus. From there, my route is not mapped but I know the general direction and we will get there easily." He said simply.

To him, it was nothing more than an extended journey, but for me it was an incredible adventure. I'd never been this far away before and my heart fluttered at the prospect of it. I decided to put the thoughts of last night behind me and to trust Altaïr. If Malik trusted him then there was no reason why I couldn't either. No matter how much Malik my touch upon my last nerve, I still trusted him with my life.

As we came around a bend, I could see all of Wadi As-Saisaban thrown out before us. It was beautiful how the light danced of the golden roof of the mosque that I could see in the distance. The river Jordan ran to the right side of the expansive city. It was a fair distance away but I could still see the deep blue waters, branching out into smaller streams and trickles, snaking their way across the arid earth. The city was surrounded by craggy rocks and steep hills. The path from the city was a mill of activity with throngs of people still walking to and from the gates, chatting and laughing among themselves. I appeared to be the only people on horseback and the crowds were giving me a wide birth. I'm sure they had had a lot of experience with careless horsemen.

Altaïr took advantage of the path opening up in front of us and started to jog, forcing the horse to follow him at a faster pace as he tugged on its reigns. I instinctively gripped the horse's sides with my thighs to retain my balance as I had nothing to put my feet into nor to hold on to. As we started to move faster, Altaïr instantaneously dropped the reigns and swung himself onto the saddle behind me. It was like no horsemanship I had ever seen before. The horse and Altaïr worked together in perfect unison; Altaïr would let go of the reigns quickly and whistle to the horse who would obediently lower its head while retaining its pace. Altaïr would then spring up lithely and use the horse's neck to swing himself around. Even with me in the way it made no difference to his technique.

"That was incredible!" I shouted approvingly, as the speed increased and it became harder to hear.

"What was?" replied Altaïr absentmindedly as he adjusted his feet in the stirrups and continued to make low clicking noises to speed up the horse.

"That!" I replied incredulously. "The way you got on the horse!"

"Oh." He said unimpressively. "I didn't realise it was worthy of praise. But thank you."

I sighed at his indifference. He must live around people who could perform the same incredible stunts. Normal people like me weren't used to such aerobatics displays as that.

We were now galloping towards the city, its walls becoming larger and larger with every loping stride of the powerful horse.

I raised my voice over the wind blowing past my face: "What is the name of your horse?" I didn't want to continue referring to it as 'the horse'.

"Khalil." He shouted back over the sound of beating hooves. It meant 'good friend'. Very suitable, I thought.

We were now winding expertly past both people and the merchant stalls that were placed strategically outside the walls of the city, enticing visitors with their souvenirs and trinkets. People were standing outside them in large groups, listening to the merchant advertise his wears, muttering approvingly amongst themselves and nodding. In no time at all, we were outside the walls of the city and looking up at the grand expanse of stone cutting up through the skyline. I imagined that Jerusalem must look this magnificent too. Perhaps more.

Altaïr dismounted Khalil swiftly and held up his arms for me to jump into them so he could help me down. I look at his arms in what I hoped was a disapproving way before jumping down easily myself.

He grinned slightly before dropping his arms and leading Khalil to a nearby merchant stall next to the walls. I followed him obediently and took the time to look at him closely. He still wore his hood and bands of leather criss-crossed along his back, holding up his beautiful curved short sword. I grimaced slightly as I saw the blade was still crusted will flecks of dried blood. Fitted around his torso was a small leather bag, two small cylindrical vials, encased in leather and two pouches. His robes flowed down the length of his body before they split out into two swallow tails with a bolt of blood red fabric hanging between them from the leather around his waist.

He was so oddly attired. I'd never seen anyone in clothes such as his. But I couldn't help but think that Altaïr was the only one who could carry them off in such a way. He looked truly moulded into them, like they were for him and no-one else. But I still felt underdressed in his presence. I was wearing a simple scarf, now tied around my neck, loose and flowing in the breeze. My long brown hair was slowly being teased out of the scarf by the wind and was being blown around my head. I wore a simple gown that I remember buying from a merchants stall near my house. I remember because I paid far over the odds for it as I have never been skilled in the art of haggling. It was a pretty faded green colour, brought in around the waist and flowing out to just above my ankles. It was more of an over dress as I wore a light cotton kameez underneath it, with a twinned, white cotton shalwar. They were both light and easy to move in as I jogged after Altaïr to match his long stride.

A man was standing nonchalantly next to a penned up area containing hay, a water trough and a few bored looking horses, pawing at the earth but as soon as he spotted that Altaïr was pulling a horse behind him, he instantly straightened up and ran over to offer his services. Altaïr talked quickly to him in a low voice before pulling out a single coin from a pouch around his waist and pressing it into the man's open palm. He then handed over the reins to the little man and gave Khalil a quick affectionate pat on the neck before turning back to me and nodding over at the open entrance to Jericho. I nodded back to him and followed at his side.

A group of four or so men were lazing about outside the walls, eyeing everyone who stepped into the city. As we made our way to the entrance, the group of men stared at me tenaciously, not taking their gaze of me as I trailed behind Altaïr. Their gazes made me feel horribly exposed and uneasy but I pushed the thoughts out of my mind as I lost sight of them.

We walked easily into the city and immediately hit the crowds so I was careful not to lose sight of Altaïr in the crush. Jericho was very much like Jerusalem in many respects. The sounds and smells were the same. Merchants' voices still rang out strongly over the general noise of fast moving people and children still ran around the legs of people, calling to each other and laughing. The air smelt deliciously of spices and food openly cooking. My stomach suddenly gave an audible groan that Altaïr heard with a smirk.

"Food I think." And he clamped his hand around my wrist and dragged me off in the direction of a food stall. I noticed that he was quite a lot taller than most of the people in the crowds.

I caught the enticing smell of meat wafting over and my stomach gave another loud growl. I spotted the stall with the meat but it also had rows and rows of beautifully coloured spices in linen sacks resting upon wooden crates with people bustling around them, pointing and handing over coins at intervals. I saw a sack containing what could only be saffron, as only the most elegantly dressed people were buying it. Saffron was a luxury I had never tried in any dishes and I envied the wonderfully dressed women handing over coins for it. But right now, it was the meat that interested me most.

Altaïr pushed his way embarrassingly through the crowd with me still locked in his death grip. He picked two silver coins out of a small pouch with a red silk cord and handed it over the man cooking the meat who eagerly handed over two sticks with pieces of lamb skewered onto it haphazardly. Altaïr handed one to me and I started eagerly eating as he led me over to a bench nearby where the crowds were thinner.

"Thank you Altaïr." I said between mouthfuls. "But how am I to pay for all this? I have no money with me." That reminded me. Not only was I money-less but also clothes-less and generally food-less.

"Do not fret." He said as he took a bite out of his lamb. "Malik has supplied me with money for your keep and I have some of my own."

"Remind me to thank Malik later." I said as I took another bite of the delicious lamb, eagerly filling my empty stomach.

We sat in silence a little while longer as we finished of food. Altaïr finished first and crushed up his little wooden skewer before discarding it on the floor. I pulled of the last few bits of lamb daintily with my teeth before doing the same.

"Do you want anything else?" He asked politely.

"No thank you, that was wonderful." I replied appreciatively, licking my lips.

He nodded once and then said: "I need to find you a horse now."

"A horse? What would I need one of those for?" I said stupidly.

"To ride." He replied sarcastically as he got up from the bench and began to weave his way through the crowds of people with me in tow. "Khalil cannot support us both for such a distance."

We walked up through back streets where it was largely empty, save a few people shuffling back and forth, their faces sullen. Altaïr was in front of me, scanning the area and murmuring to himself. The streets were dark and dusty, overcast by the sprawl of taller buildings that blotted out the sun. It seemed to be colder here too. These streets were exempt from the sun in all ways, it seemed.

We came to cross roads where four sandy paths converged in a cross shape and I could hear the bustling crowd faintly in the distance to the left, but Altaïr carried straight on.

I felt the sudden and unmistakably cold presence of someone else behind me seconds before the large hand clamped roughly over my mouth and dragged me into the shadows.

* * *

_Thanks for the reviews guys, I really appreciate and I hope you continue to enjoy my stories._

_Oh yeah...and horses rule._

_Minnie_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

I strained viciously at my captor's hand, biting and clawing any exposed flesh but it was no good. The man behind me was stronger by far and I was utterly powerless against him. I had already been dragged into the shadowy street to the right of the crossroads Altaïr and I had just continued on at. I struggled again and strained my voice against his large, dirty hand engulfing my mouth but I was still as silent as a whisper. I couldn't believe that Altaïr hadn't noticed what had happened. Surely if I had felt someone's presence then he must have also? He was far more perceptive than I was.

My heart was pounding at my ribcage, trying to beat its way free and I was terrified. A tall, young man with long, dirty hair leered down at me as he turned me roughly to face him. He stared at my body appreciatively as his eyes roved sickeningly up and down, finally stopping to rest at my breasts, then my face. I was throwing daggers at him with my eyes. In an act of as much defiance as I could manage in my fear, I waited until he dropped his face down to the level of my face before spitting at him.

His face balled up in disgust and swung his fist at my face in response, a ring on his finger cutting into the flesh on my left cheek. I cried out in pain but he slapped me once more and I stayed silent. My cheeks were throbbing painfully and the gash was leaking blood that I could feel trickling down my face.

He pulled me viciously along the street by my wrists until he came to a small area that was enclosed by the back doors and walls of shabby buildings.

I felt like my stomach had dropped out of my body as I was presented with three more men. The very same men I had seen just outside the walls; the ones who had stared at me as I walked in. I couldn't keep the panic from my voice as I spoke:

"Please, leave me alone." I pleaded, still in the painful grip of the first man. "I don't have any valuables to give you."

"Oh, come now. You and your pretty boy don't seem like locals. Everyone brings something with them." The man behind me replied sinisterly, seductively.

My eyes widened in fear as he spoke and felt my stomach lurch.

The man behind me ripped off my scarf viciously, looking for necklaces. The three men other men in front took this as the starting signal and descended down upon me, ripping my sleeves to look for adornments on my wrists. I screamed and shouted as loud as I could but my throat was dry and croaky with panic and I was smacked every time my mouth opened.

I felt the sleeve of my left arm being pulled up and then: "Bingo." Grinned one man.

"NO!" I shouted hoarsely. "Don't take that. It is all I have!" It was a plain gold bangle with my name engraved upon it. I'd been given it my my mother long before she died and I treasured it.

His stubby fingers prised it off my wrist and I was so incensed that I lurched forward unthinkingly and bit his nose. He reeled back in shock; I did the same.

Another man hit me again and was tearing at my clothes to search for further bags. I chose to bear my fate and hope that I was left alive.

I was just about to close my eyes wait for the worst to come when I suddenly saw a flash of white on the beam above my head. It was gone as soon as it had come and I thought I must be imagining things. But it looked so real.

It looked like him.

As suddenly as I had seen the flash of white, so too did I see the reflective flash of metal as something came flying rapidly towards the man above me. It glittered with the sunlight as it embedded itself into the side of the man's head. I saw his eyes register the shock before they glazed over and his heavy body fell limply on top of me. I cried out in shock and pain as his dead weight crushed the air out of my lungs. The other three men were struck down with fear as they yelled for someone to show themselves, circling into a protective formation with their backs to each other and their short daggers drawn, shaking.

Another two knives came flying out from a different direction to the first one and hit two of the men squarely in the chest simultaneously. Their bodies crumpled sickeningly together and I could hear their agonized groans as they lay dying.

The last man remained standing, jaw quaking uncontrollably as he watched his friends on the floor, dead and dying. He thrust out his knife in front of him with mock confidence but his hands were trembling fiercely, giving him away. His feet were shuffling in the dust as he turned to all angles to try and locate his predator.

From the rooftops, a shape flew downwards, white robes fluttering and descending with the grace of an eagle. The shape landed brutally on top of the last man and something was embedded into the man's neck, and he lay instantly quietened.

Altaïr murmured something unintelligible before sweeping his hand across the stricken man's face, closing his eyes for the final time.

I almost wept with relief.

He checked over his shoulder before quickly rushed over to where I lay, crushed underneath the weight of a dead man. He easily rolled the man of my body and surveyed me quickly, checking for wounds. All I'm sure he could see was a girl with a gash on her cheek, bruised and trembling fiercely, both in fear and anger. He looked at me with apology in his eyes, crouching down next to me before picking me up in one swift, effortless motion and holding me tightly in his arms. I rejected the notion of being treated like a powerless women - even though that was all I was at the moment - and so I asked him to put me down.

"Are you sure Asra?" He said hesitantly. "You look quite shaken." His handsome face was drawn with worry.

"I'll be fine." I told him assuredly. For I would be. I was bruised, yes, and shaken, most certainly, but I was alive and that was all I cared about. He lowered me gently to the ground obediently. He made to walk forward but instead, I turned to the dead man and from his large fist, retrieved my gold bangle. I smiled as I slid it back onto my wrist and then took Altaïr's arm we continued to walk through the back streets.

He glanced down at my face, stopped, and tipped my chin up with his hands. He turned my face to the side and noticed the red gash again, crusty with dried blood. He pulled me towards the wall and picked me up easily before balancing me on a low fence. I didn't resist, instead I gripped on compliantly to retain my balance. He turned to his right side to retrieve one of his small glass vials from the belt around his waist. He pulled the stopper out and sniffed it, slightly recoiling from the strong smell but content enough with its contents. He looked at my clothes, before darting his hand out and tearing a length of cloth from the bottom of my tattered, ripped dress. I snatched back my clothes in irritation.

"What are you doing?!" I asked angrily, still balanced precariously on the fence.

"I'm sorry Asra." He tipped the vial upside down onto the piece of my faded green dress and simultaneously dabbed it on my cheek wound.

I realised he hadn't been apologising for the desecration of my clothes.

I gasped openly from the pain. It felt like a thousand tiny needles stabbing my skin relentlessly.

"What are you doing?" I said angrily through gritted teeth.

"Cleaning the wound. Otherwise it will get infected and you could contract a fever." He informed me. Contracting a fever didn't sound preferable so I grinded my teeth together and bore it. It was not so bad after a few minutes.

He tipped my chin up and inspected the side of my face. There was still dried blood on my neck but he informed me that my wound was clean and would heal without scarring.

I stole a quick glance at his face; I was close enough to him so that it was not obscured by his hood.

He was beautiful.

His jaw line was strong and covered by light, day old stubble that extended to his neck. His nose was smooth and straight and angled sharply on his face but it suited him perfectly. He had full, soft lips that I almost longed to reach out and touch and his eyes….his eyes were a rich brown colour but deep like a well. I felt like he was searching inside me with them, seeing things that even I couldn't see.

He caught my gaze as he turned his head around and I snapped my eyes down quickly, embarrassed at my staring. He dismissed it and quickly held out a hand for me to hold as I jumped down from the fence. I wobbled precariously as I hit solid ground; my legs were still shivering slightly from shock. He held out his arm for me again and I thanked him as we continued walking. None of us mentioned what had happened before.

The way Altaïr had so expertly dispatched those men.

Not that I wasn't grateful but it was still frightening. The speed and the deadliness of his demeanour were intimidating and I respected him, was in awe of him and feared him all at the same time. I wasn't sure if there was some other emotion for him there too, stirring at the bottom of my mind. I physically shook my head in response to that thought. I didn't know anything about him, silly girl, I said to myself.

We came out into a street directly facing a magnificent mosque that must have been the one I had seen as I'd approached Jericho. This area was almost as busy as the area outside the gates with people still milling around, talking with raised voices. Piles of shoes were lined up outside the mosque, in a mountainous wave, denoting the sheer amount of people who must be inside, praying.

I was Muslim by birth but religion cared not for me and I cared not for religion. I had lived in the horror that was the third crusade and I had seen what these men had been fighting so earnestly for. Or more to the point, I could _not_ see. They were not fighting for anything tangible. They were fighting for land where their fabled deliverers and prophets walked and dined, healed and descended into heaven. Blood was spilt, towns were ransacked, men, women and children were slaughtered and for what? Dust? Sand? Rock? I envied how strong their faith was but I could not bring myself to believe in something so uncertain. And so, I abstained from Mosque's and places of worship, leaving worshippers to their own devices.

I watched Altaïr's head shoot up at the sound of horses, scuffling and whinnying restlessly. My hand was still clamped around his left forearm which was encased by a cold hard gauntlet with beautiful, ornate patterns carved into it. This was also the hand with a missing finger but his hand was balled into a fist and it wasn't so noticeable.

He led me along dirt paths; following his senses alone until we came to a makeshift stable, crudely erected out of old, weathered planks but still home to a small herd of beautiful horses. Each one appeared to be the same breed but they came in many colours. Altaïr seemed satisfied with what he saw and walked up to the man he presumed owned the herd.

"Are you selling these horses?" Altaïr asked bluntly.

"Yes sir! All of them are on sale for you." The man replied enthusiastically, gesturing with his wide arm to the horses pawing at the ground.

"I wish to inspect them first." Altaïr stated, before leaving me standing opposite the merchant, alone.

He walked slowly up to the horses and patted their necks affectionately. Horses seemed to be the only thing with which he was truly at ease. I noticed the way his eyes would change. They became softer, calmer. Still, this was business for him and he walked efficiently around the herd, inspecting their legs, hooves and patting their flanks periodically. He seemed pleased with what he saw and beckoned me over to him.

"Which horse do you want Asra?" He asked, still looking professionally over each horse, looking at their eyes and teeth and their backs, testing for strength of muscles.

I was faced with so much choice. They were all beautiful but one horse in particular had taken my fancy as I'd laid eyes upon the herd.

She was standing closest to the merchant, her long, elegant legs standing straight and her form wide and strong. She was so wonderful looking. The most beautiful grey I had ever seen. It was not the sort of grey that dampened your mood but more of a silver, dappled sheen that almost cast the light.

"What about that one?" I replied hopefully, my voice small with longing.

Altaïr strode over to her expertly and felt down the length of her long legs, feeling for imperfections. He seemed to find none. He moved around her, stroking the length of her silvery - grey body, feeling her muscular back and then down her hocks, before picking up her back hooves for a quick inspection. She was very calm.

"She is a fine specimen." Altaïr noted, to no particular recipient. I nodded approvingly.

Altaïr's voice was testing and questioning: "She is an Arabian breed, no?"

"You know what you are talking about sir! Yes, she is indeed. One of the finest, I bred her myself." He replied proudly, his chest thrust out and his face cracking into a wide, but reserved smile. He was still a vendor after all.

"She is very beautiful." Altaïr murmured quietly under his breath. He quickly rummaged around his small leather bag and brought out the little linen pouch, tied together with a red cord. I watched as he pulled out almost a handful of single gold coins and handed them to the horse merchant. I could only watch in shock, I had never seen so much money in one exchange.

The little man evidently had not either and his eyes were set to burst out of his sockets in glee.

"I have paid you enough I think." Altaïr said brusquely, "But with that money I expect a saddle and a bridle at the very least."

"Yes sir, of course sir!" The little man said joyfully, his paunch belly practically rolling in happiness. I saw the top of his turbaned head disappear behind the wooded stables and reappear shortly afterwards, his arms laden with various pieces of slightly shabby equipment.

Altaïr eyed them suspiciously before pursing his lips and giving a short nod. He took them from the man and tacked up the lovely mare in a hurry, she blew air through her nostrils impatiently, seemingly eager to be ridden.

Altaïr took the bridle and gripped it firmly in his hands before turning to give the horse merchant a deadly stare.

"If I find that you have sold me a dud…" He began menacingly, "…then I will not hesitate to return here and find you."

His tone even scared me. The way he could change so fast was unnerving. The little man nodded swiftly, his brow creasing in fear and tried to turn away from Altaïr's enrapturing, unyielding gaze.

"Of course not sir, she is the best!" He tried to inject some joviality into the last syllable but his voice cracked and there was fear in his eyes.

"Good."

Altaïr turned back towards the direction of the road and nudged the new mare's reigns. She followed happily, trotting along behind him.

I threw an apologetic glance in the horse merchant's direction before turning to follow the mare's gently swinging tail as she walked back, reigns encased in Altair's large hands, towards the impressive stone entrance of Jericho.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

We were out of Jericho long before the sun rose to its highest point in the sky.

I was astride my new mare and I was enjoying it. She carried me effortlessly along, her tail swishing away flies that buzzed around her flanks and her perfectly formed grey ears flicking back and forth in rhythm with her movement.

Altaïr and I didn't speak much, save him asking me if I had a name for my new mare. I couldn't give him an answer immediately, so I spent the next few monotonous hours running ideas through my mind.

Altaïr silently coordinated our movements through as much shade as possible. The sun's rays were unbearably intense during the day and neither of us could stand them for any great length of time. I noticed that Altaïr never seemed to remove his hood, no matter the weather but I didn't mention anything. I sat silently as we trotted on. Very silently

* * *

I now felt stiff on my horse. It had been many hours and the new clothes I wore were chaffing against my skin. Altaïr had stopped to buy me new attire after my old things had been pulled apart. I'd walked out of the attack with my clothes in tatters. I looked a mess and Altaïr had taken pity on me. I now wore a sort of fabric wrap that encased my body and was tied up with a short string at the left side of my waist. It was figure hugging and short but I wore a new shalwar and kameez underneath it, covering my arms and legs. The whole outfit was rich, breathable cotton in a dark green colour. Altaïr had matter-of-factly stated that it matched my eyes. I think I'd turned around embarrassed at that point.

Two hours into a near conversation less trek, I said tonelessly, "Maysaa."

Altaïr turned his head quizzically. He was riding on my left and brought his horse in closer. "What?"

"Maysaa." I repeated again, with more enthusiasm this time, "That is what I shall call her." I patted Maysaa's beautiful silver neck to emphasise who I was talking about.

Realisation dawned and Altaïr nodded his head. "It is a good name. It suits her."

'Maysaa' meant 'walking with pride'. I'm sure I could have chosen a name that meant 'beautiful' or 'magnificent' or something that described her lovely colouring but Maysaa suited her perfectly. It was the thing I had noted about her when I first saw her. And now, when she moved, it only helped to reiterate that. She _did_ move with such pride. Her long, long legs were straight and beautifully muscled and she walked with a strange human-like sense of assurance. Yes, Maysaa would be her name.

I was happy I'd been able to spend so much time choosing a name. It had preoccupied me for a considerable length of time and any time spent on something different, however trivial, was time _not_ spent on re-living the moments in Jericho. It still made me scared to think about. More scared at the frequency with which such attacks took place.

I looked over to Altaïr for want of something better to do. He seemed preoccupied within the caverns of his own mind. I frowned slightly. I wanted to be a good comrade to Altaïr; he'd done many things for me already, most importantly, saving my life. I was eternally indebted to him for that, even if the circumstances under which we'd met were undesirable. Therefore, I didn't enjoy this lack of conversation. I was eager to start talking, even if I could feel that it was going to be strongly one sided.

"Altaïr, I think we should get to know each other better." I began, trying to sound determined. "This will be a long journey and it would be nice if we could become friends." I hated how childish I sounded but that is how it was. There was no point in beating around the bush.

"There is not much I have to tell you." He replied. "And there is even less that I _can_ tell you." His face was hard and he was not forth giving with any more words.

I frowned further. One sided indeed. I hated the way he seemed to have so much he was hiding. I knew nothing about him save his name, his incredible skill in athletics and his love for horses. And those things were easily found out by anyone.

"Okay, let me try anyway. Tell me if I pry too deep." But I made sure it sounded like I _didn't_ want him to tell me at all. I _wanted_ to pry as deep as possible.

"Where are you from?"

Altaïr looked thoughtful for a minute, considering his answer. I watched him carefully, exasperated that it was taking so long for an answer to such a simple question. Watching him 'carefully' was made even harder by the fact that he was moving up and down with the gentle gait of Khalil.

"I am of an Arabic mother and an English father." He said finally. "But I have always lived in Palestine. I believe I was born in a small city outside Jerusalem and raised there."

"You _believe_?" I said, voicing my thoughts too loudly.

"Yes, for I don't truly know. I have no living family now. My parents are long dead and my sister is long missing. Probably dead." He said emotionlessly.

Altaïr's face was predominately unreadable but the subject of his sister obviously hurt him. I hastily moved on, sorry that I had brought it up.

"So where do you live now? How do you know Malik?" I continued on.

"I live nowhere of importance and Malik is simply….a colleague." He said cryptically.

"But Malik is a scribe." I said, directing Maysaa closer to Khalil. "Are you one too?" He most certainly did not look like one. And a scribe had no use for the acrobatic skills he possessed.

Altaïr's face suddenly changed, as if he'd been caught off guard doing something that he shouldn't, but he recovered himself instantly before replying with: "Yes. Something like that."

Something about the way his face altered when I mentioned Malik's profession confused and unnerved me but there was nothing I could say, the expression he carried did not exactly invite questions. I pushed it from my mind and drew a breath to speak…-

"My turn now." Altaïr said smoothly, changing the subject. I let out my breath and sighed glumly but let him have his way.

"I want to know about your father."

I stiffened instantly to any mention of my father. He could see that I looked tense and wary so he amended his previous statement: "If you want to, that is."

I began a conversation in my mind. Why was I still afraid of my father? I was many miles away, almost to a place called Phasaelis, according to Altaïr, and my father would have no idea of my whereabouts. I was free, now that Altaïr had snatched me away; I never needed to return to where he was again. The thought alone was unexpectedly liberating. I let out a deep breath and loosened my shoulders. I found the paradox of being stolen to truly be free, vaguely amusing, if ever so ironic.

I recounted the tale to Altaïr of my upbringing and he listened intently. He seemed genuinely interested which was surprising, given how insignificant I was to him. I was simply his ward, as ordered by my cousin. Still, I was happy for the enraptured audience and so I continued.

I kept the tale short though. However happy my audience was to receive me, I wasn't in the mood to go through my whole life story. When I had finished and breathed again, his only answers were vague, unintelligible murmurs but he looked quite angry. Angry over what? I thought to myself. But I didn't dwell. Altaïr was an enigma to me and his emotions were best kept to himself for I certainly did not understand them. I felt a bizarre case of role reversal. I could have sworn that it was meant to me the male who found the females hard to understand, not the other way around. I sighed and patted Maysaa's muscled, grey neck.

I had no way of knowing what time it was. After the first few hours, I had given up counting. I evaluated that it must be around late afternoon as the sun was in a different position, further down in the sky. I also evaluated as such because I didn't want to believe that we had so much time until we camped down. The heat was still unbearable, my thighs were aching uncontrollably from the unnatural position astride a horse and I was hungry and thirsty. I took to distracting myself with thoughts of Altaïr. He was rather distracting after all.

At least that way, I wouldn't have flash backs… I hoped that I was not suffering from shock of some sort because I could not seem to let the incident go. The images stuck in my mind the way a piece of bread would stick to the inside of a parched mouth. They were relentless and bashed away at the corners of my mind, hoping for complete dominance. I had taken to physically shaking my head to distract these thoughts and so I shook it again and returned to looking at Altaïr's lovely profile, the way I had done for the last however many hours when the cavities of my mind were not under attack.

His profile was as perfect as the rest of him; straight and smooth with a defined jaw line and chin. His eyes were still a deep, hazy brown, set quite deep, casting a small shadow under his eyes, but when they caught the light, they almost glowed.

I pursed my lips, irritated. I wasn't amused with my constant appraisal of Altaïr. I was starting to sound like a love sick girl. I clamped my lips further together and pondered. I needed something to clear my mind. I thought for a moment before coming to a wonderful conclusion. It would combat the heat too.

I dug my heels sharply into Maysaa's tough flanks and instantly felt the jolt of speed. Her hooves smashed down onto the ground and he ears were slicked back in response to her pace. She enjoyed speeding along as much as I did. I loved the wind on my face and the adrenalin. I imagined she loved that too.

Altaïr hadn't been expecting any such impulsiveness and I ended up leaving him to inhale my dust. Of course, he was not far behind me, pressing into Khalil with his heels to get him to match the speed of Maysaa.

"Please just bear in mind that if you die. I die four times as painfully." He shouted sarcastically as he came parallel to me.

I laughed freely as he spoke. He was right, what I was doing was fairly dangerous but if he wasn't stopping me then it couldn't be that bad. What Malik did not know could not hurt him, I thought slyly.

Maysaa's mane was flying about nearly whipping me in the face as she pounded along the harsh, almost empty terrain. Altaïr didn't seem to have that problem. He sat a lot taller on his horse than I did on mine. He was still so assuredly placed there. His back was curved expertly over Khalil's neck and he rose and fell in perfect synchronisation, serving to make Khalil's job easier. Meanwhile, across the way, I was having a bumpy, yet enjoyable time. Maysaa was probably despairing at my lack of horsemanship though.

The undulating paths we were speeding down were populated by a spattering of thick, brown vegetation but one tree dead ahead of us was different. Its thin bark was knarled and twisted but its leaves still looked as luscious as ever, a rich green despite the relentless heat. And idea formulated in my head I felt like a competition.

"I'll race you!" I shouted over the wind. "To the tree!" I indicated by throwing my head in the direction of the knarled foliage. It was quite far away and made for a decent race.

Altaïr looked at it calculatingly and smirked before whistling to Khalil and nudging his flanks. Their speed seemed to increase even more yet I thought we had been going as fast as we could. Maysaa looked no worse the wear from the last few minutes of galloping and so, determined to win, I dealt her a sharp kick with my heels and she raced forward eagerly. Altaïr was already a way ahead of me but I was eager to close the gap.

I caught up to him in no time. Maysaa was very fast, almost scarily so and I was gripping the reigns until my knuckles turned white. I noticed with pleasure that the night was beginning to creep in, that meant I would get to make camp soon and rest. The sun was changing colour and starting to dip behind the horizon. Still, it would be light for a small while.

We descended into a large, open area of empty land; it's only inhabitants being bits of foliage and large rocks. I glanced over to Altaïr, who had caught me up in no time and watched him as he bent low over Khalil, reducing the buffeting from the wind. I mirrored his actions and found that I could see more easily without tears being drawn from my eyes by the rushing winds. I egged Maysaa on faster and faster, watching as the designated tree began to grow larger and larger with each pounding of hooves. I noticed with glee that I was quite a way ahead of Altaïr and I intended to keep it that way. I was so fast that he appeared to be slowing down.

I gave Maysaa one last kick in the flanks and she threw on another burst of speed. The tree was now only a little more than three hundred meters away and I could almost taste victory. After the large clearing, the road had returned back to being fairly narrow and this part was surrounded by dense bushes and small trees. I was surprised that I couldn't hear Khalil's hooves anymore; it must mean that I was very far ahead of them. I couldn't help grinning to myself.

Altaïr kept a stony face as he bore his eyes into Asra's back, watching to make sure she had descended down the slope and out of harm's way. She was engrossed in the race and eager to win so she spared him no heed as she and her mount eagerly leapt over the land.

As soon as he had lost sight of Maysaa's silvery-grey behind and knew that Asra was out of earshot, he began to slow down more, pulling at Khalil's reigns with his face taught with anger as he growled, "Come out now! I know you are around here!"

To anyone else, the area would have seemed deserted but to Altaïr, the land was teeming with life.

Most noticeably, the presence of a band of men.

He wasn't sure how many there were but he'd known what he'd seen as he'd ridden past the large area, littered with easy hiding spots. There were men here and he didn't know for what purpose. It certainly wasn't for an idle conversation, he thought grimly.

Suddenly, he noticed a miniscule movement from the corner of his eye. Altaïr was so highly in tune with his surroundings that he would have noticed a mouse cough.

With speed uncharacteristic of a human, he hurled a throwing knife that landed perfectly at the feet of a man, robed in ragged brow sacks as he'd crept out from behind a dense bush, seemingly unnoticed. The scrawny man jumped back as if boiling water had just been thrown at his bare feet.

"No you don't." Altaïr said his voice thick with menace. "If I see you go after that girl and that horse than you will rue the day you were born."

Altaïr kept his eyes locked onto the ragged man as he drew his long sword slowly; it made no sound as it slid out of the leather scabbard. He swung one leg around to dismount…

Then suddenly, as if out of nowhere, something struck the back of Altaïr's head with such unexpected force that it sent him sprawling onto the ground, his head pounding and his vision blurred. In a brief moment of clarity, he watched as Khalil sped off into the trees, his bridle flying wildly, intertwining with his mane; that was a good thing. It had been what he'd wanted him to do. Best to keep him safe.

Altaïr cursed viciously as his head throbbed and stars danced teasingly in front of his eyes, mocking him. He tried to lever himself up but was kicked to the ground by the man in sacs who had deemed it safe to come closer to this now temporarily incapacitated man.

Then the rest of cowards showed themselves.

* * *

_Hey guys, sorry it's taken so long for the update! School just isn't like what it used to be…. (Yeah…it gets hard…who would have thought) and I also departed for an unexpected skiing holiday. I'm now a pro, in case anyone is interested. Black runs after only 5 days skiing. Oooohhhh yeaaahhh._

_Thanks for all my reviews, I really love getting them and thanks to all who have subscribed for alerts and other such cool things, it makes me happy as I love to know that people like my stories! ^_^_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I reached the tree easily in first place, grinning cheerfully to myself and praising Maysaa vigorously. Khalil and Altaïr were no match for Maysaa and I. As we came to a standstill, Maysaa strained against my hands clasped around her bridle and put her head down to taste the dry grass beneath our feet. It didn't look particularly appetising but I slackened my grip to allow her to feed.

I proceeded to dismount and immediately wished that I hadn't expended the effort. It was very painful. My thighs were like rock, clasped tightly around Maysaa's stomach and they did not take kindly to being moved after such a long time. They were stiff and sore and it almost brought tears to my eyes as I swung my right leg around to jump off. Landing on the ground was a disaster as my legs almost buckled on impact. I rubbed my thighs to try and sooth them and grimaced, hoping that horse riding would get easier and less painful.

I straightened up as best I could and ran a hand along the trees' weathered bark. It was rough and warm under my fingertips but provided a welcome shade with its fan of leaves. Bits of bark began to crumble and fall off beneath my hands and I realised that this tree wasn't as alive as I'd thought. The wood look almost charred black as it disintegrated beneath my touch; it appeared to be roasting from the inside due to the unrelenting desert heat.

I'd only waited half a minute at the most next to the dying tree before I became uneasy. There was no way I could be this far ahead of Altaïr. He'd ended up no more than a few hundred meters behind me.

Yet I couldn't see him anywhere. No horse in sight, no Altaïr, no sound.

Nothing.

The path we'd taken hadn't been flat but I should have still been able to see him behind me, no matter how much he'd been losing by, but I could see nothing.

I could feel fear creeping in to fill the void that had -until recently- been home to happiness and glee at winning. I couldn't help but think: What was wrong?

Ignoring the pain in my stiff limbs, I leapt up and threw my legs awkwardly around Maysaa's stomach and grabbed the reigns as fast as I could. I needed to know what had happened.

Maysaa jerked her head up from the dry grass as I strained at her bit and she stamped and whinnied in distain for the panicked yank on her mouth. I turned her around until the knarled tree was behind me and slowly began to fill with dread even more. I kicked Maysaa's flanks and with one fluid movement, was back off in the direction I had come from. My heart was beating nervously and I was anxious for Altaïr. What could have happened? He couldn't have fallen off his horse, he was far too skilled for that… Unless Khalil had dropped a shoe or slipped, Altaïr may have been brought down too. He could be lying on the ground, unconscious, bleeding…

My mind worked uncontrollably and my hands started to shake slightly. It is strange that when you're worried you can think of nothing else. Every other sound and thought is blocked out by a haze of underlying dread. Maysaa's hooves made no impression upon my ears, nor did the sensation of the cool wind against my skin. I was only worried about Altaïr.

I'd barely galloped half a mile when I suddenly heard the shouts of angry men, carried along by the wind. My instant reaction was to tug sharply on the reigns and so we came to a jarring stop that almost threw me off Maysaa's back and over her head. I only just managed to keep my balance as I jumped out of the saddle; the pain in my legs nothing more than a dull ache, eclipsed by the rising beat of my heart. The men's voices growled ominously.

I suddenly gasped as six unrecognisable men came into plain view, their swords clashing and the gritty, painful sound of their sharp cries howling over the landscape. I couldn't believe I hadn't heard them before and I couldn't take in what I was seeing. My eyes darted along, studying the men's faces as I suddenly remembered who I'd come here for. I felt as if my stomach had dropped out the bottom of my body as my fears were confirmed when I spotted Altaïr in the centre of the fray, his right arm sweeping powerfully with his long sword but his left arm limp by his side with his sleeve covered in dark blood. His face was a vicious mask of determination but his lips were pressed tightly together, bearing the pain of his arm. I spun around horrified and rode as far out of sight as I could so that none of them would spot me or Maysaa should any of them glance my way. I tied Maysaa's reigns to the nearest sturdy bush I could find, tugged it again to make sure it would stay before crouching down low and creeping forwards as fast as I could.

I watched in respectful horror as Altaïr dispatched two of the men in one fast turn, thrusting his sword into one man's chest before brutally pulling it out again and swinging around to cut the other mans throat. It was so fast that neither of them would have been able to see it coming. The last thing they saw was their warm blood flowing onto the ground, greedily soaked up by the parched, dusty earth. I felt rather ill.

I was also uncomfortably close to the fight, hidden behind a bit of sparse, dry grass and a few pathetic looking bushes. I was beyond scared but not for myself. For him. For Altaïr.

There was nothing I could do. I was helpless and defenceless again and it angered me to have to stand by and watch. But I knew that any help I tried to offer would be far from helpful and would probably end up distracting Altaïr and causing him to let his guard down. I wouldn't have him die because of me.

I suddenly slammed my hands around my mouth to muffle the anguished cry that tried to escape my lips as I watched a man behind Altaïr swipe forwards and bring his sword across the length of Altaïr's side. Altaïr suddenly buckled and cried out in agony as blood began to seep into the weave of his linen robes. He looked so uncharacteristically helpless. I had to do something; Altaïr would die if these men -whoever they were- weren't defeated soon.

My eyes darted frantically around the newly widened path; this was a clearing we had passed briefly as we galloped towards the knarled tree. That race seemed an age ago now. My eyes quickly locked onto what I'd wanted to find.

Khalil was standing by a large rock, not far from where the men were fighting. His muscles were tense and his normally placid eyes were wide and frantic. The poor creature was terrified.

And injured, I noticed with a start, as I crept closer. There was a wide gash across his shiny, mahogany rump, seeping blood that was almost invisible against his coat. He stamped his feet in a fresh frenzy of fear as Altaïr delivered a punch that sent a man sprawling in his direction. I froze as a new wave of terror washed over me. I stopped dead and held my breath. The man was dangerously close and I thought he would get up any second and notice me. I waited a second or two, my lungs held at a standstill until I noticed the man wasn't moving. He was unconscious. I let out a quivering breath, wondering how Altaïr could find such strength with such an injury. It must be agony. Even though the men he was fighting were not as skilled as him, there were more of them and they were larger. Brute strength gave them an advantage over him, weakened as he was.

I managed to reach Khalil undetected; my clothes seem to blend quite effectively with the sparsest of greenish leaves and the darkening of the sky. I approached him from the front, so he could see me coming. I didn't want to scare him further. I held out my hand and he shied away, but still, he never left that spot. I felt a new wave of respect surge forward for Khalil; no matter how scared he was he didn't run away. He would wait for Altaïr, however long it took.

However, there was no time for gentle reflection upon the relationship between man and beast; I flinched as I watched Altaïr take a kick to his wounded side that had him bent double, groaning in pain and clutching at his injury, trying to stem the flow of blood that began to flow freely again.

I held out my hand again, more urgently this time and forcefully stroked Khalil's soft muzzle. He was immediately apprehensive and his eyes were frantic but the fear seemed to lessen as I stroked his cheek rhythmically. I made gentle shushing noises and he seemed to relax. I took this as my chance. I ran around the side of him so I was on his right side, where I'd noticed the saddle bags were hung. I rummaged desperately through them, finding only useless things like white feathers and more small empty vials, nothing that I could cause substantial harm with. I checked the other one hastily, trying to keep an eye on the proceedings ahead of me. Altaïr was still fighting back with strength I didn't even know possible for a man so beaten.

Triumphantly, my hands clasped around what I'd been looking for. I pulled out a leather pouch containing five deadly, beautiful throwing knives. They shone in the light and the engraved motif on the handle stood out like coal upon the whitest of linens. They felt heavy in my hands. Too heavy. It suddenly dawned on me that I was unskilled in their handling and they were dangerous.

But I decided that I didn't care.

* * *

_Sorry it's taken me so long to update guys but the Brits have these irritating things called GCSE's Grrr. They're uber important and require work unfortunately…._

_Anyhoo__, thanks to everyone who has left me a review, they'__re very much appreciated!__ Also, could you guys give me some feedback on chapter length? How do you feel about it?_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

I pulled one out of its protective leather sheath and took a deep breath. I chose the man closest, with his broad back facing me and the expanse of ragged clothing hanging off him. I crouched down next to Khalil and was close to praying. Something I was never normally close to. I encased the knife in my right hand and threw it.

Threw it with all my strength and as much precision as I could muster.

I had been aiming for his back; it would have been more crippling that way. However, it embedded itself in the back of his calf. I watched him cry out in stunned pain as he suddenly toppled over spectacularly due to the unexpected onslaught to his leg muscle. I almost jumped for joy but of course, none of us were out of the woods yet…and I suddenly felt a feeling of unease wash over me over what I'd just done. I'd never actively set out to injure someone yet now, I was throwing sharp knives into people's legs. However, I was willing to do that for Altaïr. He'd saved my life and now it was my turn to endeavour to save his. I still felt a bit queasy though.

Altaïr had already killed two men, one was unconscious a short distance from Khalil and I'd just incapacitated another one so that left two and I could see them still fighting Altaïr. The two left were the most skilled; they almost matched Altaïr in his injured state. Their blades leapt off each others as Altaïr fought both men at the same time, clutching his side and staggering slightly.

Unexpectedly, the man with a knife in his leg had dragged himself up, gnashing his teeth and gritting his face in pain. I choked as his livid eyes locked onto mine and I even saw the surprise as he realised I was a women, followed by intense anger as he realised it was a member of the weaker sex who had just injured him. I felt suspended in time. He limped towards me with surprising speed, shouting to the two other men to inform them. He stopped for a moment and bent down, examined his leg and shot his hand out around the knife hilt. In one swift movement he yanked the bloody knife out of his leg with apparent nonchalance and threw it to the ground as if it was no more than a toothpick.

I think I may have cried out in fear at that point. He strode towards me and I suddenly became aware of the danger I'd now just placed us all in. I viciously cursed my stupidity and my feeble aim -mentally noting to ask Altaïr how to execute a throw properly, should I survive this scorned man's wrath- and sent a fleeting glance around, looking for an escape out of this extreme lack of judgement.

The two men fighting Altaïr had looked up as the ragged man limping towards me had shouted at them and even through my haze of panic and strategic planning, my spirits lifted with as much joy as I was capable of feeling when pain was being caused as Altaïr seized the millisecond of opportunity and slashed at the one of the men's exposed chest. He screamed a high pitch wail as he crashed to the ground, only to be cut off dead as Altaïr thrust a small throwing knife into the tender flesh at his neck. Altaïr leant back on his knees, his breathing ragged now and every breath an immense chore wracking his chest. His hands were stained with blood and I could not tell whose it was.

In the split second when Altaïr had snatched the window of distraction and killed the man close to him, the man staggering towards me had turned around to see what commotion was going on behind him. I snapped back into reality and gracelessly clambered on to Khalil; he seemed so much taller than Maysaa.

He snorted in trepidation and stamped his hooves, stirring up dust on the dry, yellow earth and -sensing the weight of someone upon his back- took off in a flurry of dirt and eagerness to leave this now morbid place. I was inclined to feel the same way but Altaïr kept me focused on my self-appointed task. The man in front of me fell back in surprise as Khalil bowled him over, roaring in pain again as the fall aggravated the knife wound I'd so deservedly given him. I left him to lie in the dirt as my heart pounded for Altaïr's safety. He was only fighting one man now but that one man was beating him down easily; something that I hadn't thought was possible with regards to Altaïr. It made me realise how little I really knew about him. Of course he wasn't invincible, he was just a man. How had this image of Altaïr being invincible slipped into my mind? But that didn't matter now. I just wanted to make sure he was safe.

It would have been nice if I could have raced to Altaïr's rescue astride an elegant mount, my face a perfect reflection of calm and posterity as I easily dispatched the last man threatening him. Instead, I was clinging on to a panicked horse for dear life, whose limbs were flying akimbo as he ran awkwardly, distracted by fear and my face was anything but calm and on top of that, I was in no position to kill anyone or attempt to save anyone's life. However, I was going to try my hardest.

It was a struggle to try and combat Khalil's primeval animal instinct but my incessant pulling finally convinced him to change directions so I could jump off and run to Altaïr. I made him stop short of a dense bush and flung myself off as fast as I could; landing in a painful heap on the ground but the adrenalin numbed the pain.

I could see the vile man ahead of me, swinging his sword sadistically while Altaïr barely deflected his blows, his teeth gritted in his pain with his eyes dangerously close to glazing over… and I snapped.

My brain stopped processing sensible thoughts and I simply flung a knife at him from the pouch still gripped in my palm. It didn't even hit him, but that hadn't been my intention. It landed at his feet with a dull thud and the man shot a glance in my direction, seeing me and shooting me an enraged look. He shot out a foot and slammed it into Altaïr's exposed abdomen. Altaïr crumpled and the man leered, seemingly satisfied with Altaïr's current condition and his eyes bored into me as he made the intentions for his next action obvious. He was coming for me now.

But just as the man made to move, the motionless Altaïr shot out a bloody arm and seized the man's ankle. He was lying almost face down on the ground but somehow, he still managed a perfect aim. The man staggered slightly, his arms out to steady himself and quickly discovered the source of the hindrance. He raised the other foot and stamped viciously on Altaïr's wrist to detach his steely grip. I cried out in anger as the man continued to stamp his foot down on Altaïr's hand and, without thinking, launched myself in his direction. I ran with such speed that he didn't anticipate my foolhardy attack and the element of surprise was with me as I vaulted onto his back, shouting in anger I didn't know was possible for me.

He was as surprised as I at my fleetness of foot when I smashed into his back. The unexpectedness of my attack combined with the strong grip of Altaïr's hand on his ankle sent the man sprawling across the ground in a flurry of dust. I almost couldn't see what was happening now as the darkness I had previously whished for now leered at me as it threatened to descend even faster. Darkness would only make everything infinitely more difficult.

I cursed at the hopelessness of the general situation as my interlocked ankles painfully smashed into the ground along with the man's burly torso. He grunted and coughed as he fell and the dust was stirred up around us both. I shouted Altaïr's name in a frenzy of panic and cried at him to get up. I was so close to him but I still couldn't reach out to him. He was lying face down on the ground, covered in blood and dust and worryingly still, continuing to remain unmoving as my shouts rang out over the quiet dusk.

The man made an enraged sound as he yanked my arms and legs off from around his waist and slammed a balled fist into my stomach. It knocked the wind out of my lungs and instantly cut off my shouts. I attempted to raise myself onto all fours, one arm clenched around my abdomen as I watched the man easily rise to his feet, now unhindered.

I registered with shock that Altaïr was no longer laying where I'd seen him but a few seconds before. How could he move so swiftly and so silently when he was so injured? I staggered to my feet with one arm still wrapped around my stomach and as I did so, the enemy suddenly fell forwards and slumped back onto the ground directly in front of me. He reminded me of a tree finally giving way to the relentless beatings of an axe; the way his arms remained at his sides as he swung forwards and how his face barely registered the fall.

In the man's place stood an exhausted looking Altaïr, his breathing laboured and his left arm raised with some sort of dagger protruding from his bloodied cuff. With a quiet mechanical click, the now bloodied dagger shot back into his cuff as quickly as it must have been deployed. It seemed to act as a signal for Altaïr, for his eyes suddenly glazed over as he slumped forward onto his knees, the battle finally ended and the struggle now over.

He landed with a strangely quiet thud on top of his most recent victim before rolling off to the side, his arms apart from his body and his robes spread out on the ground, stained red with the blood of dead men and more worryingly so, his own. The blood now flowed freely again from the large gash on his right side plus the many other smaller wounds that were distributed across his body.

My eyes looked over his still form in despair.

He was so injured.

There was so much blood.

He was so quiet.

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__Hey Guys _

_Originally, this was just one chapter but I decided that it was way too long, so I did a bit of chop __chop__ and got it down to a reasonably readable length. Hope you enjoyed it!_

_And a special shout out to all the people who've alerted and favourite-d my story, it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling of joy :D_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

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_This one's a long one! My longest yet! I hope you enjoy it, although, I think I may have a chronic inability NOT to describe things in detail. Anyhoo, happy reading _

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I crawled up to him on all fours; physically shaking from a mixture of shock from the events that had unfolded before me and apprehension of not knowing what I would find when I looked into his face. He was so still and I couldn't tell whether he still lived. I didn't want to think about it.

"Altaïr." I whispered shakily. There was no reply but I don't know what else I'd been expecting. "Altaïr!" I said again, realising that whispers were totally ineffective. "Altaïr! Wake up!" I shouted again. Fear had taken my heart into his steely grasp and was cruelly tightening his hold for every second that Altaïr lay there, unmoving. I couldn't even see the rise and fall of his chest; he was unnaturally still. I leant down and placed my ear directly next to his mouth, desperately waiting to feel his gentle breath against it. A tense second passed before I felt the tickle of his raspy breath against my ear. Relief washed over me but it was quickly replaced by hopelessness; Night had almost fully descended; we had nowhere to camp; Altaïr was in no state to move; I was in no state to move him and most of all: he may have been breathing but he still wouldn't wake up.

In utter despair and frustration, I raised my hand to strike his face -perhaps a sharp shock would do the trick- but just as I was about to bring down my palm, Altaïr shot out his blood covered right hand and caught my wrist in mid air. I yelled in utter shock as his large hand tightened around mine disapprovingly.

"I don't think so Asra. I've had quite my share of beatings today; I don't need you to add to my injuries." He said weakly, his voice strained. He let go of my wrist which remained suspended in mid air while his hand fell back limply to the ground. His breathing was laboured and his eyes were closed in what seemed like intense concentration; he was in a lot of pain.

"Altaïr, whatever you do, do not go back to sleep." I said seriously, trusting my voice to have recovered enough from Altaïr's unexpected awakening.

He laughed weakly, his eyes still shut. "Fear not. I'm just… resting my… eyes..." His voice trailed off and his strained expression temporarily dissipated as he lapsed into a state of unconsciousness again. Fear briefly stabbed at my heart until I could see that it was obvious he was still breathing. I relaxed and didn't attempt to wake him again. He wasn't in pain this way. The only problem now was what to do. I had no guidance and his injuries were numerous.

An idea quickly flew into my mind as I recalled what Altaïr himself had done to treat my cheek in Jericho. The only problem was that the vials were attached to his back which was inconveniently pressed into the ground at this moment in time, far out of my reach. I frowned before remembering that Altaïr carried extra in one of the saddle bags. Disaster averted.

I quickly leapt up from my crouched position and looked around for Khalil. It was getting harder and harder to see as the night settled in rapidly. I couldn't see him anywhere in the immediate vicinity and I hoped to Allah that he hadn't run off when I'd dismounted him in a panic. As if on cue, Khalil nervously padded towards me from behind some vegetation not far ahead. I felt immediately ashamed for thinking he might have run away. He would never leave Altaïr.

I jogged to greet him and gratefully stroked his soft muzzle, thanking him for still being here; it made me feel less alone. I quickly led him over to where Altaïr lay in his deep sleep and Khalil immediately lay down beside him, his large bulk acting almost like a shield; as if he wanted to protect Altaïr from further harm. Horses don't usually lie down, if I remembered rightly, so I was quite surprised at this loyal gesture.

Suddenly I heard the irritated whinnying of another horse from a distance. My mind jogged back into place and I felt guilty for leaving Maysaa there for so long. I was a bit disorientated as to where I'd left her and it was especially unhelpful in the dark but I managed to locate her after a few minutes. As she came into sight, I found it uncanny how Maysaa seemed to posses the ability for human characteristics; it seemed like she was giving me a very dirty look.

I felt the need to instantly apologise profusely to her and I stroked her cheek soothingly. It felt like she tried to avert her head. I hung my head sheepishly but otherwise paid her no heed as I untied her from the branch and lead her back to where Khalil lay as a watchful guardian to the unconscious Altaïr. Maysaa quickly went to stand obediently next to where Khalil sat, her previous bad mood gone now since she could see Khalil; they seemed to have taken a shine to each other in the past day. It was nice for them to have a companion in one another. A human friend was one thing but a comrade of your own species is always appreciated.

Having retrieved and successfully contained both mounts, I turned my attention to Altaïr. As he lay now, he looked peaceful and it was as if he was just taking a nap instead of lying unconscious recovering from a fierce fight.

Of course, on closer inspection, the sight was fairly horrific.

His left sleeve was ripped from the middle of the upper arm to the middle of his forearm, only held in place by his leather gauntlet. I delicately pulled back a length of his left sleeve to peer at his arm where I knew there was a wound that I'd seen him clutching as he fought. What I found was almost gag inducing. It looked horrendous and I had no idea how to treat it. The most serious injury I'd ever treated was one on my own forearm that had been caused by a shard of ceramic hurled at me by my oaf of a father; all it had done was bled a bit and left a tiny, thin scar. Altaïr's on the other hand was a long, deep gash, covered in blood that had turned almost black and dried on his skin in a sticky, grimy mess.

I looked at it calculatingly, my stomach churning slightly and thankful for the fact I hadn't eaten recently. All I could do was emulate what Altaïr had done to me. He said it would stop infection and if anything needed protection from infection, this wound was it. I took one of the vials from Khalil's saddle bags and removed the stopper. I copied Altaïr and sniffed the contents of the vial deeply.

I immediately recoiled in horror and choked and spluttered as the full force of the smell hit my nostrils. It was vile and I couldn't even describe how it smelt, it was so awful. I placed the lid back on hastily and put the vial down next to my legs before rummaging through the saddle bags looking for some sort of rag that I could apply the liquid too. Luckily, Altaïr seemed to have planned ahead and had a bundle of rolled up muslin in one of the bags. I rolled some up into a ball and daubed some of the evil smelling liquid onto it. I hesitated just before I touched his skin.

Did I apply it directly? Did I dab it gently? Was it even meant to go directly into the wound? Had I even got the right liquid?

Questions circulated in my mind and reminded me of my total inexperience, a depressing thought, but I cast my mind back to how Altaïr had done it to my cheek, he'd ripped some material from my dress and dabbed it onto my cheek… The thought inadvertently caused my mind to flash back to how I'd received the wound… and in turn, to how those men leered at me… That image would forever stay in my mind. I shuddered again, wondering how so many terrible things could happen in such a short space of time. I pursed my lips and stared at his wound nervously. There was nothing for it; I would just have to do what I could. Whether it was wrong or right was not my problem at the moment, anything would help right now.

Anyway, if Altaïr wanted to be cared for properly, he shouldn't have collapsed unconscious, I thought jokingly. I proceeded to rub away at his wound with decisive strokes that I'm sure would have been agony had Altaïr been anything but totally oblivious right now. The blood and the dirt seemed to come away quite easily and it made me feel a bit more optimistic. I scrubbed away for a few minutes and then raised his forearm to inspect my handiwork, feeling less queasy now. It was a surprise I could see anything though, as the night was now fully upon us with my only light being the Moon and her army of stars, but I could make out a bloodless wound -which seemed a step in the right direction. I suddenly involuntarily shivered and it snapped me back into the harsh reality of the climate and the cruelty of the Palestine weather. Where else would it be roasting hot in the day but freezing cold by night?

I clasped my shawl further around my body and tied it at my front which I hoped would stay away the cold for a further few minutes. But, at the back of my mind, I knew that we would have to find shelter. We couldn't stay here in the open where the bitter cold could be allowed to freeze us where we lay. I'd never had to spend a night out in the open but I had heard stories and none of them were pleasant.

With this sense of urgency now at the forefront of my mind, I knew I needed to make quick work of the rest of Altaïr's injuries. I ripped of a length of unused muslin and wrapped it around his left arm wound, hoping I'd done enough to stave off a fever. Just as I was about to turn to the rest of his injuries, something attached to his left forearm caught my eye like a wild rabbit in a trap. On the front of his left forearm was his beautiful gauntlet but on the underside, there was something attached that looked completely unfamiliar. I gently rolled his arm around, careful not to knock his newly dressed wound. What I saw confused me.

Attached by leather throngs and shiny metal buckles was what seemed to be an odd metal rectangle, expertly engraved at the bottom but otherwise, serving no obvious purpose. It was baffling to say the least. I ran a finger gently along it, feeling its ridged perimeter but still seeing no use for it. Altaïr appeared to be lugging along a dead weight on his left arm. Silly man, I thought to myself. I disregarded the odd metal box and went back to treating possible wounds. I picked up his hand in mine and began to feel along the length of his fingers, something that I had seen physicians do when checking for breaks… not that I actually knew what a break felt like so it was ultimately pointless…still I continued on, determined to do all I could –and look professional in the process-.

Something which I had completely forgotten suddenly jumped to the forefront of my mind; the absence of Altaïr's ring finger. I still couldn't work out why it unnerved me so but something about it tugged at my mind like nimble fingers trying to open the cords of a small pouch… yet nothing would come to me. I looked at the stump for a second before tentatively feeling around it. It felt knarled and uneven underneath my touch and I shied away from it. It wasn't pleasant. I moved on to his little finger which looked decidedly unusual. It was encased by some sort of metal contraption and a small ring that I dared not touch it. Who knows what it could be.

However, after a second or two, curiosity got the better of me and I pressed along the length of his little finger.

I instantly wished I hadn't.

I gasped as something flew out of the thin rectangular box attached to Altaïr's arm with an instantaneous jolt. I remained holding onto Altaïr's arm but the sudden movement had given me such a fright, I'd almost dropped it and cried out. However, I kept a hold but from a safe distance. What I saw baffled me further.

Out of the box on his forearm, a short but beautiful blade had swooped out and taken its place where Altaïr's ring finger used to be. This blade, I noticed grimly was covered in a dried, dark red substance and I knew where from. This was what Altaïr had killed the last man with. What I'd thought had been a dagger, turned out to be a mechanized killing machine. A cold shudder ran through my body. Who on earth would carry something like this around? Not only that, but Altaïr was a walking artillery anyway, with the sword at his hip and on his back, as well as the numerous daggers and throwing knives.

I cautiously pressed the ring attached to Altaïr's smallest finger again, with the correct assumption that it would cause the blade to shoot back in. It still made me jump, even though I was expecting it. I rested his arm back down by his side, my head filled with questions.

He was certainly the oddest scribe I had ever met.

There was no time for questions though. The night was getting colder by the minute and there were still many injuries to attend to. I turned to the next problematic one; the wound to his side. I shuffled round to his right side on my knees near to where Khalil lay in patient waiting and gaped at the wound. There was blood completely covering his robes and the wound was thin and precise but looked deep. I tried to coordinate my movements around his horizontal body but it was easier said than done. I couldn't treat the wound from this angle and it was made even harder due to the lack of light. I looked at Khalil lying there, rubbing at the ground with his muzzle and I'd swiftly found my means of support.

With extreme difficulty, involving a lot of cursing, scrambling and falling over my own knees, I managed to drag Altaïr by the scruff of his clothing to rest against Khalil's side. I was panting and wiping a thin film of sweat of my brow as I hauled Altaïr unceremoniously into place, when Khalil suddenly decided to back out of my proposed plan. He made to stand up, disgruntled at the sudden disturbance to his relaxed nonchalance. I hastily let go of Altaïr's shoulders and seized Khalil's reigns all in one sudden movement which stopped him in his tracks. I pulled his head down to meet mine and stared with as much menace as I could muster into his eyes. "Don't move an inch." I said in a whisper.

I very much like to think that I struck fear into his heart for he promptly sat down again, averted his gaze and swished his ears around nervously. I smugly dropped his reigns and with the support now in place, adjusted Altaïr so that he looked vaguely comfortable. Whether he was or not was a different story. Not that he would know or care either way at the moment. I now took another easier look at his gash, in between bouts of involuntary teeth chattering.

I'd moved around to Altaïr's right side which now meant I had to kneel right next to Khalil's head as he nipped and pushed at my hair playfully, for want of something better to do. I tore another length of muslin up; ignoring Khalil's bored fidgeting and applied more of the liquid onto it before gently dabbing it across the length of his lower torso, through the cut in his robes. I cleaned it up as best I could and even poured some of the vial's contents on the wound for good measure but this one looked bad. I couldn't see how it would heal properly unless Altaïr stayed completely still for a few weeks which just wouldn't be possible. I now needed Altaïr awake. I sighed grimly at the prospect of waking him up.

I gently nudged him and called his name in the hope that I could make the whole process quieter. However, judging by the fact that he didn't even batter an eyelid as I tugged him along or shouted at him, I couldn't see myself being that lucky. I pursed my lips in quiet contemplation before launching into a full frontal attack.

I called his name loudly and proceeded to shake the living daylights out of him, remaining careful not to disturb the wound on his side. I waited a few seconds as Altaïr's eyelids fluttered and his eyes struggled to focus on me and his surroundings.

My voice softened as I spoke to him, the relief of knowing he was alright, finally sinking in.

"Are you okay Altaïr?" I kneeled beside him again, still on his right side in line with Khalil's head but he'd gotten bored now and had it rested on the ground.

"Not particularly." He replied weakly, his face contorting briefly as he accidently moved too jerkily and disturbed the gash at his side. Which reminded me, I thought worriedly.

"I need you to take of all your upper body clothing." I said quickly, my hands busy preparing makeshift muslin bandages.

A look of incredulousness flashed across his face. "When it's this cold?!" He said slowly, his voice barely above a husky whisper. The childishness of that statement made me smile.

"I'm not going to get the bandages on any other way." I stated matter-of-factly. This seemed to alert him to his injuries and he raised his left arm to look at the bandages I'd put on. He seemed impressed.

"Nice job Asra." He noted with surprise. "I still hurt like hell but you've done it well."

"It's alright." I replied simply for there was not much else I could say. I busied myself with the muslin again, looking down intently.

"And thank you."

I looked up and his eyes caught mine. His voice was harder this time and his eyes were full of gratitude. I looked down embarrassedly at the intensity of his stare.

"It's nothing Altaïr." I mumbled intelligibly, "You've saved my life and I needed some way to help you in return. All I'm doing is dressing your wounds anyway; it's nowhere near the same." I finished lamely.

"But you have also saved my life Asra. This is simply going above and beyond the call of duty. Your foolhardy courage no doubt saved me when I was fighting. And that is why I need to thank you."

He tried to reach out a hand to me but recoiled in pain, wincing.

"Don't move! You'll ruin my good handiwork!" I chastised.

He laughed softly but had no other option but to comply. He rested back into the crook at Khalil's stomach and took to flexing his arms and legs as much as possible to check everything was still functioning.

The bandages were prepared. "Okay, Altaïr, please take off your tunic." I held the bandages in both hands, laying them across the length of my palms.

He quietly started the painstaking task of peeling each layer of clothing of his battered body without disturbing his abundant injuries, wincing every time the rough fabric passed too heavily over his tender flesh. It took him over five minutes and I even had to help him at one point. Finally, the upper clothing was fully removed and left hanging around his waist which let me see the wound in full on his side. Altaïr eyed me questioningly as if he was expecting me to recoil in feminine horror at the sight of a male so 'exposed'. I laughed at this notion.

I'd temporarily had to take a job at a local public baths in the centre of Jerusalem when I was twelve, as a cleaner. It involved sweeping up the messes of all the richer people who could afford to be properly clean, it wasn't a good job but it involved money so that was good enough in my books. But being a bath, it contained many underdressed people and I worked on both the male side and the female side so needless to say… I saw my fair share of nakedness, even if it was completely unintentional every time. Not quite the thing I'd wanted to see at twelve, mind you.

I'd seen many male chests in my time, it was true, but Altaïr was so much more beautiful than any other inconsequential man I'd seen before. His chest was broad and smooth and perfect in every way. His abdomen was tightly muscled and I watched as his chest rose and fell with his gentle but painful breathing. He looked liked a statue carved out of bronze by the finest artist.

But my eyes widened when I finally saw the scars.

They criss crossed along his beautiful body like cracks in wall, thin and white but suddenly so prominent against his night shadowed chest. I had to repress the urge to trace my finger along them… to see where they led too and to know what they felt like. What had happened to him? Normal people didn't obtain scars like this through everyday life... It troubled me greatly… not knowing… I watched as his chest spasmodically shivered and realised how cold it must be.

It must be even more freezing for him and even though he wasn't showing it in his face; I could see the involuntary spasms of his muscles. I was too tired to think of Altaïr's scars in this state. I would ask him in the morning, if I remembered it after the deep sleep I was planning to partake in.

I quickly took one end of the bandage, careful not to drag it in the dirt, and started it at the front of his chest before slowly wrapping it and re-wrapping it around his front and his back alternately. This involved a lot of sticking my head close into his chest to reach around his broad back but I tried to make sure that it didn't look like I was as embarrassed as I truly was. The bandage spanned the whole length of his chest and torso and I was starting to get low on the muslin, but at least his majour wounds were now covered, the others could wait and be cleaned up later. I tucked the end of the fabric back into its self and sat back on my knees and observed my handiwork. It was, on the whole, tidy and should last until we could find a city selling proper equipment.

"That should do it." I said to him, my voice quaky from the cold.

"So I can put my clothes back on now?" He asked sarcastically, his voice quaking also but through a combination of many different factors, the most prominent one being his lack of upper body protection.

"Of course." I sniffed indignantly; ignoring his sarcasm and busying myself with packing things away as he pulled his layers of clothing back on, starting with his undershirt, then the top half of his tunic. He left the hood off though and informed me it was because his head was still throbbing from a hit delivered with a rock to the back of his head that had happened before I'd arrived.

That reminded me.

"Why didn't you call out to me when you realised you were in trouble! You just let me ride on and I had no idea!" I said resentfully, looking straight at him, my voice stronger the louder it was.

He simply laughed. "Is it not obvious?" He replied, his voice sturdier and less raspy now. "I wasn't about to go and alert them to your presence, nor throw you into the centre of the fray. You may not remember but I have a duty to your cousin to keep you safe. Shouting at you to join me in a fight would not be helpful."

My annoyance lessened. There was nothing but truth in his words. My question seemed stupid now and I dropped my head slightly in dismay.

"And what does it matter?" He continued, "You came to my aid despite my efforts to keep you away, so surely that is enough."

I mumbled a half formed reply and quickly changed the subject.

"We need to move now Altaïr. It's freezing here and there's no proper shelter."

Altaïr looked up at the stars questioningly, his eyes taking in everything above and around him, before looking down and nodding. "I agree. We need somewhere to sleep. I would set up a proper camp with tents but I'm in no state to move at the moment."

"It's alright… I suppose we'll just have to sleep in the open." I stretched out my legs, stiff from kneeling on the hard ground for so long, and stood up, walking to Maysaa and stroking her check gently, so as not to disturb her semi slumber. She exuded warmth and standing next to her was like being wrapped in a blanket. I revelled in the warmth and continued stroking her softly, waiting for Altaïr to get up so we could continue.

But he didn't seem to move.

"Asra?" Altaïr said quietly, his voice laced with an odd tone of shame and embarrassment.

"Yes?" I turned my head in his direction and looked at him quizzically.

"I can't move... At all." He replied. I watched as he reiterated his point by attempting to stand up, resulting only in a look of pain and a brief movement of his torso, before slumping back into Khalil's side.

I sighed in incredulous despair. "Oh."

I walked back and crouched down next to him again, wondering how in Allah's name I was meant to lift a man of his size. He looked at me with mortified laughter in his eyes.

"Well this is fairly embarrassing." He said huskily, his expression almost sheepish.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about Altaïr." I replied, a smile tugging at my lips in response to his expression. "Most men wouldn't even have woken up by now after such a fight like that."

"That is not the point. I am not most men."

"You got that right…" I muttered under my breath, too quietly for him to hear.

"How do you propose I move you?" I continued.

"Preferably gently."

"Oh ha, ha Altaïr. I wouldn't mind some support right now!"

"Nor would I. Otherwise how else am I to get up?"

"You're unbelievable." I said rolling my eyes in amused disgust at his sense of humour.

Well, at least he had one, I thought to myself. First impressions led me to believe he was stoic and silent. And I was right for a short time, but there is a lot more to him than the air of strength and superciliousness. And I was happy for that.

I stood in front of him, staring at him down my nose and screwing my face up in thought. He simply sat there checking his weapons and moving his legs to try and coax his muscles into being more compliant. I'd picked my chosen method of assistance and so I stuck my hand out, palm up in front of me and waited for him to grab it so I could try to pull him up. Instead of gripping my wrist though, like I expected him to, he clasped my hand warmly in his large, surprisingly soft one, our fingers interlocking. I'm ashamed to say that my heart skipped a few beats and my breath began to quicken in response to his smooth touch. I don't think he realised quite what an affect he'd had on me with such a simple gesture.

He tugged on my hand as if to beckon me to crouch closer to him. I complied and my face came level with his.

"Do you really think you'll be able to support me like that?" He asked jokingly, his hand still clasped around mine.

"I'm not a weak or pathetic woman Altaïr." I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I never said you were it's just that I am much heavier than you."

Without so much as a whisper of warning, he sharply yanked his hand towards his body and our hands didn't break apart, so I toppled headfirst into Altaïr's chest in one sudden, and slightly painful, movement. Because I'd been crouched to his right, next to his outstretched knees, I managed to fall mortifyingly into his lap.

I cursed as I fell -or was 'pulled'- but Altaïr quickly pulled my body off his lap and deposited me to his left. "What the hell was that for?!" I said sharply, my voice cutting into the otherwise silent night, save for the melodic chirping of insects.

"I've decided we're not going to move. We have each other for warmth and the horses will rest around us." He said simply as if it was the most obvious thing to do. I was glad for the darkness now. I blushed from being so close to him and when he said, 'we have each other' my heart gave another, odd, annoying flutter, like a small bird flitting around its cage.

"And I want to comfort you." His voice sounded distant now. Apologetic even.

My stomach did a peculiar flip in my body.

"Why?" I asked, barely trusting my voice to stay level.

"I've seen the way you look at me… with underlying fear. I don't want you to fear me Asra."

I wanted to desperately deny it. To tell him it wasn't true and that he didn't scare me in the slightest.

But that would just be a lie.

"You shouldn't have had to see me kill those men like that. It wasn't something you should ever have to witness." His voice was so hard to read and I couldn't see his face as I was pressed into his side, my legs curled beneath me.

"You think I'm a monster." He sighed sadly.

"That's not true." I replied angrily. I did not think he was a monster. He was a kind man underneath it all. I knew it.

"I don't blame you, whatever you think. How can I expect you to think any differently? In fact, I'm surprised you haven't run away screaming at me not to come near you." The way his voice lilted so almost broke my heart. That must have happened to him before.

"I'm a strong person Altaïr." I replied quietly, my voice muffled by the proximity to his clothes.

"You are Asra. Truly. And I'm sorry I cannot confide in you the secrets I have."

"I understand." I said calmly. Right now I was just happy to be curled up where I was. I nervously hoped that Altaïr couldn't feel my heart thump against my chest.

"But Asra, that's not the only reason you need comfort." He said, his voice beautiful and rough.

"I let something terrible happen to you in Jericho." I stiffened responsively and he felt it.

"It wasn't your fault Altaïr." I said shaking, whishing we would change the subject. Sweat formed on my brow even thinking about it. I'd developed quite an affective system of completely blocking it from my mind and he was now breaking down my mental barriers for no reason.

"But it was." He replied exasperated, raising his right hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezing it, the other hand resting on his thigh.

"I knew the man was behind you, but I didn't want to indicate that I knew, or else I thought you might panic. And I didn't want to make any movements because you were in between me and him. If I'd made any attempt to retaliate, he could have injured you." His voice was bitter and resentful, as if he was cursing himself.

"Please Altaïr stop." I whispered, burrowing my face into the side of his chest. It was true, what he said was unexpected but I didn't blame him and just wanted to leave it and forget. I was safe and he was safe now and that's all I cared about.

"I'm sorry Asra. I won't say anymore. I just wanted you to know." His voice had taken on his usual assured intonation again. Back to the way I liked it. His voice was beautiful to listen to this way. Anything other than self-assuredness bordering on arrogance didn't sound right coming from Altaïr.He didn't say anymore but instead gingerly moved his left arm to wrap it around my hunched shoulders. I simply curled into his side and breathed in his wonderful scent. I'm sure it was nothing special. Probably a mixture of sweat, blood and horses but just being this close to him made me feel better. The overpowering smell of blood made me a little nauseas though. I'd have to do something about that tomorrow when we reached the bank of a river.

The last thing I heard was Altaïr beckoning to Maysaa with his strange low clicking noises. I didn't expect her to obey as she hadn't been with us long enough to truly trust us. However, I soon heard the swish of her bridle as she sauntered sleepily along to where we lay, backed up against Khalil. I remember being blearily aware of thinking that Altaïr must coaxed her to lie down, because I heard the quiet clatter of her saddle and bridle as she moved around, followed by the distinct feeling of her presence in front of me. I was too tired to raise my eyelids to check but I knew she was there, I could feel her and I felt safe and enclosed with her there. We were now circled by the two horses and I was wrapped up in Altaïr's side.

Bliss.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

* * *

I was running full speed down a street. A street I'd never seen before. A street I never wanted to see again.

No matter how fast I ran to try and escape, I never seemed to get anywhere. The pinpoint of light at the end never increased. I was stuck running. My breath was coming fast in my chest and I was gasping for air. But I never stopped to rest. Instinct told me to run and never stop running.

The street was empty and had other smaller paths leading off it. Darker paths. I wasn't going to go down those. Something told me not to.

I thought it would never end. Why was I running here? I didn't think there were any streets like this in the place I'd stopped to rest. But it wouldn't change. Nothing would change. I ran and I ran. My only comfort being the raspy rattles of my breath as I strove to keep my lungs filled. It was the only sound. The only thing keeping me from crying out. The only thing keeping me running forwards.

And then suddenly… Everything stopped.

Everything. My body stopped on its own. I was running one second and then completely still the next. I had no control. I was being controlled. Wispy smoke suddenly began to curl in tendrils around my feet and ankles, coming from no visible direction. The walls surrounding me seemed to dissipate in front of my eyes. The uneven bricks melting into each other, oozing sickeningly like sand mixed with water. Everything was claustrophobic. I thought I would suffocate from the feeling of being encased by these dusty, morphing walls.

And then I saw him.

He was there in front of me, his robes billowing outwards. This confused me. There was no wind.

But he was my sign of comfort in an otherwise bleak and unknown environment. I wanted to call out to him. To tell him I was here and that I was safe. But he wasn't looking in my direction. I tried to move towards him but my feet were stuck to the ground against my will. And then suddenly, my arms became heavy too. Invisible bonds wrapped themselves around my arms and held me in place. I strained against them, desperate to reach Altaïr. He must be worried for me.

His head quickly shot around and his eyes found mine with a cruel sneer. He began to walk towards me. I didn't like the way he moved. It was sinister this time. He held something delicately 

clasped between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand but I couldn't make it out. He reached me in no time at all and I expected to hear words. Any sort of words but he said nothing. He only grinned. But his grin was not warm or endearing. It was filled with anger and hate and it had me recoiling in horror. I fought against my invisible bonds again, desperate now to get out of his presence. Something wasn't right with him. But I couldn't move. He closed the gap between us and looked at me sinisterly; his eyes alight with sadistic humour.

He took my chin in his left hand, holding it between his thumb and forefinger. I strained against him but he was strong and jerked my head up to meet his gaze. He raised his right hand and I caught sight of what he was holding. It was a long and elegant white feather. Or, it would have been white at one point. Now, it was dyed a deep crimson red. My eyes were wide and imploring, trying to make up for the fact my voice had fled long ago. I wanted him to stop looking so terrifying. And to drop the feather. The moment I saw it, it struck unnatural fear into my heart. Something I didn't understand and couldn't place. He raised it above my head and then began to trail it, seductively, across my face, starting on the left hand side, at my temple and trailing it down and around, following the curve of my face. I could feel it leave a burning, bloody trail as I felt it sear my skin.

And then I screamed.

I awoke to Altaïr leaning over me, his face calm and his hand tenderly stroking my hair, trying to calm me down. I was frantic and gibbering like an old woman whose senses had taken leave of her. I was ashamed of myself but I couldn't help it.

The dream had terrified me unlike anything else I had ever felt or seen before. I was shaking and the images were scrolling through my head, forcing me to relive every moment in vivid detail. The dark street; the bonds around my limbs; the blood soaked feather; Altaïr…

"Hush Asra." He said to me gently, his eyes deep hazel pools of understanding. "It was nothing more than a bad dream."

I took instant solace in those eyes. I felt like his eyes knew exactly what happened, even if Altaïr himself did not. What a strange thought, I said to myself; eyes are not independent of the body. But there was something about them, as if it was subconscious understanding that Altaïr as an entity didn't entirely understand. As if mentally he had gone through so much but didn't remember it all fully. Things were locked away in his mind. I realise that this Altaïr was nothing like the Altaïr in my dream. The _real_ Altaïr was nothing like the Altaïr in my dream. I should have nothing to fear. But something about that dream terrified me.

The feather.

I recognised it, as if I too had memories locked away in the deep recesses of my mind but without sufficient knowledge to unlock them. I cursed myself.

I began to become aware of where I was again. I had somehow made it onto the ground horizontally and Altaïr was kneeling over me. I blushed furiously at the compromising position that I'd found myself in and all the more so due to the fact that he was stroking my hair. With all these small actions, I don't think Altaïr had the slightest idea of the implications that they held or the affect they had upon me. He would stop immediately if he realised. I raised myself up quickly; worried in case he could begin to hear the intense fluttering of my chest.

"I'm sorry Altaïr." I said, "I don't know what came over me." I shook my head and massaged my temples vigorously, trying to force out the distasteful thoughts.

"There is nothing to be sorry about. You've had an exhausting few days."

I thought I saw a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes but he didn't ask me any questions. I was grateful for that. I wouldn't want to lie to him but I most certainly did not want to tell him that my nightmare had been of him.

"Are we leaving now then?" I asked shakily, eager to be off and back on the road, with any luck, leaving the memories in this odious place.

"Don't you want any food?" Altaïr asked, standing up gingerly to his full imposing height and massaging the bruises on his body. He looked stiff and tense but at least he could move.

"What do you have?" I replied, walking over to Maysaa and Khalil who were now standing together, rubbing their muzzles on the dry grass in disdain at the poor quality of food.

Altaïr ran a quick store check by rooting through the saddle bags. He looked frustrated.

"Oh," He sighed in response, "Make that nothing."

"Joy." I replied grimacing.

"We'd better leave then. We're very near to a city and I'll buy you something there." He repacked the saddle bags and signalled to Khalil, who trotted over and obediently stood still while Altaïr re-attached the bags. Worry suddenly flashed across his face.

It alarmed me. "What's wrong Altaïr?" I asked instantaneously.

"Khalil. He's injured." Altaïr replied, unfocused, his voice distant. He was too busy inspecting the wound.

Dammit! I shouted in my head. I'd known about that injury, I'd seen it when I arrived on the scene. I felt awful that I'd left it for so long. I quickly hurried over to where they were standing, intending to help but Altaïr was way ahead of me. He was already dabbing liquid from the vial across the wound tenderly, trying not to hurt Khalil.

"Did you see how he got it?" I asked inquisitively, rubbing Khalil's neck.

"Strangely enough, I didn't." He replied brushing the piece of rolled up fabric across Khalil's shiny mahogany rump.

"Those bastards." Altaïr said angrily. He quickly realised he was in company and his head shot up. "I'm sorry; I shouldn't say that in the presence of another." His lips were turned up slightly and his head was cocked to the side.

"Haha, don't mind me." I laughed flippantly, waving my hand. I'd heard worse, let's put it that way.

"By the way…" I began, his words reminding me. "Who were those people last night?"

"Common bandits." He replied scathingly, replacing the stopper on the vial and repacking it in the saddle bags.

"But skilled ones with much experience in their 'craft'." He continued, "I was foolish enough to not anticipate a group of them. I thought there was only one. That is, until a rock hit me in the back of the head." He finished jovially.

"Indeed." I said jokingly. His humour was infectious as it was such a contrast to the usual him. It made me smile.

I gingerly put my left foot in the stirrup and levered myself up. My legs were still aching but I was getting more and more used to this mode of transport. Altaïr on the other hand, had considerably more difficulty than I did. His muscles were so stiff that he could barely swing his leg around and the wound on his side severely impeded movement, especially the movements that are required for riding a horse. I watched wincing as he hit his left arm on his way up and the bleeding started again, staining the muslin bandage and re-staining his tattered linen robes. He cursed a lot and shuffled around but eventually he sat up tall and gave a quick lopsided smile, indicating that he'd managed it and it was time to move. I smiled back and waited for him to lead the way, stroking Maysaa's smooth silvery neck.

He clicked gently and so quietly that it was for Khalil's ears only. Maysaa lazed idly on her feet but followed obediently when Khalil made to move. I grinned to myself. She seemed to be developing quite a thing for Khalil.

My mood had dropped considerably in record time.

"I'm hungry now."

"We've only been travelling an hour." Altaïr replied, exasperated.

"I know but I want breakfast." I pouted like a child. My stomach was rumbling furiously and felt like it was eating itself internally.

We'd stopped once and that was to give the horses some water. Altaïr kept a skin of water reserved for the horses and a ceramic bowl in which to dispense it. I looked at it longingly as the 

horses lapped it up gratefully but I wasn't allowed any. Altaïr was very frugal in his water distribution as he made sure to always keep one skin purely for the horses. He told me we'd be there soon anyway.

Be where? I couldn't help grumbling to myself. I remembered him saying we would come to a place called Phasaelis but it was taking too long to get there. Although, we did have to move extra slowly for neither Altaïr nor Khalil could retain a pace that wouldn't set their injuries aflame. Altaïr had promised that we would start to move a lot faster once he and Khalil had healed fully and he was certain that I wasn't going to kill myself atop a horse. Such confidence, I grumbled again.

Another half an hour passed in near silence, when suddenly, roof tops became visible as we descended down a ridge. Altaïr had given me no indication that we were reaching any populated area and so when I caught sight of Phasaelis in the distance, rising out of the dust and rocks like a majestic magic trick, I audibly gasped. I wasn't used to such things. Being raised in Jerusalem all my life had severely limited my access to the outside world and to see wonders like this was a treat beyond all others. I'd discovered that I loved to travel. Just to be outside, visiting cities I'd never heard of before and riding my very own horse, as well as knowing that you were at the mercy of nature sent thrills down my spine. It was all so clichéd, I thought, but it was something you could never appreciate until you experienced it.

But there was another reason I enjoyed it so much, I thought to myself. There was no point in attempting to cover up my own feelings. I knew that I enjoyed it all the more because I was with Altaïr. I'd been in his presence for less than a week but he had had a profound effect upon me. And upon the beat of my heart too, I thought grimly. It couldn't be healthy.

I glanced over to him briefly and noticed embarrassingly that he was doing the same thing. I averted my gaze to my hands curled around the shabby leather bridle rested upon the base of Maysaa's neck.

Altaïr still hadn't replaced his hood and his face was in full view. His hair was cropped severely short but it did not detract from his features. He was still as handsome as ever with his deep, brown and extremely over analytical eyes focused upon me for a brief second before they, too, averted.

Phasaelis was only small compared to both Jericho and Jerusalem and wasn't surrounded by wall, only harsh unforgiving terrain. It erupted, seemingly out of nowhere and dominated the landscape, despite its small size. It was a small oasis in an other wise empty landscape, surrounded by luscious palm trees, for which it was apparently famous, and the River Jordan flowing alongside it. This city was also renowned for its dates, according to Altaïr, who seemed to have flawless knowledge of the whole area from Jerusalem onwards. I was impressed and pushed Maysaa on into 

an eager trot, just to get there a little bit faster. Altaïr followed me like a disapproving guardian would tail a disobedient and over eager child.

The city officially seemed to begin with a spattering of stalls and small, sturdy little houses, surrounded by small gardens and vines crawling up the uneven stone walls. The merchant's stalls seemed truly random but the houses were placed in a little network of living areas that intertwined with the small tributary of the River Jordan which veered of directly into Phasaelis, providing grazing for the animals and water for the citizens. People milled about, shaded under immense palm trees that fanned the area like huge protective coverings. Their vivid green leaves spanned great distances and allowed people to walk around freely without onslaught from the sun. It was truly beautiful and the buzz of the town was welcoming after the silence of the desert.

"We will need to find accommodation here Asra, for it would be unwise of me to continue to travel until I am fully healed."

This was news to me but I was secretly excited. It meant exploration time. And food. Not forgetting the food. My stomach growled in response.

"Of course." I replied politely, temporarily ignoring my raging stomach. I would also welcome a soft bed for a night, instead of a mixture of saddle sleeping and lying directly on the ground. Neither of them preferable over the other. My back and buttocks were testament to that, I grimaced. Altaïr came to a large stall, home to a vast array of finely woven carpets and pulled Khalil to a stop, signalling for me to do the same.

Altaïr dismounted in such a way that had me suppressing outburst of laughter. He was so awkward and it was so uncharacteristic of him, the way his foot didn't completely clear the stirrup before he tried to move, which resulted in him falling to the ground with one foot on the floor and the other one bent backwards strangely, stuck in his stirrup. Khalil became incredibly bored with the proceedings and tried to walk off before Altaïr has fully removed his foot. Altaïr shouted at him as he hopped along on one leg, yelling at him to stop. I laughed as he cursed some more and hopped on one leg, trying to free the other as Khalil didn't stop.

I laughed freely again as I watch him hop the next few meters before I dismounted easily, pulling Maysaa along behind me to intercept Khalil so Altaïr could free himself because, however funny it was to watch him hop along stuck in his saddle, it couldn't be doing his already exhausted body much good.

Altaïr managed to free himself by twisting his foot around so he was facing backwards, before easily pulling his foot out. He gave Khalil an annoyed slap on his rear before pulling the reigns tightly and dragging him along behind him as he stomped down the path surrounded by stalls. I 

followed, giggling to myself but keeping my head bowed so he wouldn't see, saving him the embarrassment.

I watched with interest as hundreds of colourfully dressed people milled across my path and into stalls and buildings along the converging streets, many of them carrying goods with children enveloped in their skirts or in their arms, content to be walking around going about their daily business. Small children were winding their way through the crowds, shouting to each other, their eyes sparkling with excitement as they chased one another. I noticed that the buildings gradually got more densely packed but the streets were just as wide and spacious with the beautiful palm trees growing many feet in the air. The buildings were all painted a clean brilliant white but many people had added some individuality by dying one wall with various different hues, and so the whole area had become one large plethora of exciting colours from every angle.

I let my hair come tumbling out of my scarf as the wind was only a small breeze here and the shade of the palm trees protected my head from the sun. My hair was a huge mess and I wanted to ask Altaïr if I was allowed to buy something to tame it with -preferably a hair brush- but I decided to wait until we'd reached somewhere we could stay.

Altaïr looked like he knew where he was headed, for his turns and directions were very precise and there was no absent minded ambling. Although, I think that was just _him_, just the way he carried himself. We came to a huge square dominated by a small yet beautiful fountain that was surrounded by women standing and sitting around, talking amongst themselves. I would have loved to stop and browse the little stores and taste some of the food but Altaïr continued purposefully onwards and so I dutifully followed with Maysaa still in tow. We finally came to stand outside a large sandy coloured building, complete with stables next door to it where two horses were standing and munching on hay, tethered to the side.

"We'll stay here, if that's alright for you." He said politely, still gripping Khalil's reigns in his good arm. I glanced upwards to inspect the proposed accommodation. The building didn't just occupy the ground floor, but the first and the second as well, with large open windows and small, slightly shabby, wooden shutters. It all looked fairly typical of an inn, but even if it had been made out of reeds and horse dung, I still wouldn't have complained. I didn't care where we stayed. I just wanted food.

"It looks lovely." I replied, eager to fill my belly and go around the stalls I'd seen in the square we'd just passed.

Altaïr nodded and wordlessly relieved me of Maysaa's bridle, holding it in his own hand and leading the two horses to the stable, placing them in a stall together, away from the other two residents.

I didn't wait for him to return to my side, but instead stepped into the door of the bright, airy building. The inside was basic, with the same sand coloured walls and crudely tiled floor as most other buildings but it had a homely charm about it. I wished we could stay here longer than one night. Altaïr gave me a fright as he silently appeared behind me and placed a hand on my shoulder. How could he move like that? I sighed to myself.

A tall thin man stood behind an ornately carved counter flicking his hands speedily through a thick pile of papers, his face screwed up in concentration as he expertly counted each one. I had no idea what they were mind you, but he looked professional doing it. He was so engrossed in his task at hand that he didn't register our entrance.

Altaïr strode up to the counter and placed his forearm onto it. The man jumped up in surprise.

"I'm sorry sir! I didn't realise you were there." He hastily put the papers back onto the counter and gave a wide smile.

"Have you places free?" Altaïr inquired simply.

"Yes sir." The thin man replied, his overly large nose become ever more prominent with every second that his overly large grin stayed plastered to his face.

"We want two-…"

"One!" I interjected hastily. I didn't want to be on my own. I wringed my hands together in front of me embarrassedly.

Altaïr's eyebrows shot up and he shot me an odd glance but didn't say anything. I kept my eyes focused on my hands. They'd suddenly become ridiculously interesting.

"…one room." He continued, turning back to the man at the desk.

"Certainly. Will that be two couches, or one sir?" The man asked, a knowing smile playing on his lips, as if he was sharing a joke with Altaïr.

Altaïr wasn't the sharing kind it seemed.

"Two." Altaïr shot back scathingly.

The man's overly large grin was promptly wiped from his face.

There were no doubt many other administrative questions to be asked but Altaïr's expression had wiped the tall man's mind like a slate.

"I'll take you to your room." The man hurriedly said, falling over his own words as he led us up a flight of uneven stairs. He opened a small wooden door onto a little room with two small beds directly in front of us in each corner and bowed as he left. "I hope you are comfortable." He said nervously, before making a quick exit. I didn't blame him. The phrase, _if looks could kill_, would have been suitable.

I glanced around again. The room didn't have sandy walls like the rest of the building, but pale blue ones with a delicate motif painted around the top edges. This room was perfectly sufficient, if a bit small and sparsely furnished. There was a small wooden table next to the door in the corner but beyond that, it was empty. I checked under the beds nervously and there were two pots.

I'd completely forgotten about that.

I didn't want to share a room anymore, it had just been the instant fear I felt when he said 'two rooms'. It had caused me to blurt out things I didn't mean. I hadn't wanted to be alone. But now, after realising that we would have to relieve ourselves in the same area, my brain had begun to properly function and I realised the foolish error of my ways.

Well, there was nothing for it now. I was too embarrassed to talk to the owner now since Altaïr had bitten his head off.

"This is nice." I said to relieve the silence.

"It's adequate." Altaïr replied mildly, his head swivelling around to observe, his hood still off.

"I'm sorry about putting us in one room," I stammered, "But I…" I trailed of embarrassedly, unable to give him a reason that didn't make me sound needy.

"That is of no consequence." Altaïr said kindly, "I too will feel safer knowing you are within easy protecting distance."

I raised my head up and returned his lopsided smile. That smile that I loved. It suited his striking features so well. I reminded myself that staring was considered rude and snapped my head back down. I moved further into the room and went to sit upon one of the beds. I bounced up and down for want of something else to do and discovered it was lovely and comfortable. I instantly wanted to rest my head and sleep but the all mighty growl of my stomach reminded me of my first priority, lest my stomach burst out of my body in ravenous anger.

Altaïr heard it too, well; at least I think he did, judging by the infectious smile that played across his lips as he raised his eyebrows knowingly at me.

"Food?" He said simply.

"Yes please." I replied enthusiastically, jumping of the bed and making my way out of the door before Altaïr even had the chance to drop his eyebrows.

In fact, I think I was out of the front _entrance _by the time he'd dropped his eyebrows.

What can I say? I enjoy food.

After a thoroughly pleasurable meal of some of the luscious dates that Phasaelis was famous for, and baskets upon baskets of bread, Altaïr and I had spent a leisurely hour meandering through the labyrinth of open streets that flowed around Phasaelis like ribbons in the breeze. The trees still 

shaded the close knit city and the friendly people walked along like bright jewels in the patchy sunlight, their pretty clothes flapping at their feet.

I don't know why I found this city so alluring but something about it drew me in and made me want to ignore everything else and simply take in the sights and the feelings and the aromatic smells that hung on every street corner, filling the breeze with the delicious smell of roasting meat and vegetables. Altaïr walked beside me, his beautiful eyes staying observant throughout, while we talked about nonsensical and unimportant things. The topics ranged from the meticulous nature of ceramic plate painting to the correct way to consume a pomegranate. Apparently, you do not peel them first. Although I fervently argued that there was no other way to do it, Altaïr said you were meant to cut them in half.

Although what we talked about was ultimately pointless, being able to talk to him openly like this was something that I had wished for since the day I'd met him. How long ago that seemed now. He laughed freely and his lopsided grin made my heart flutter every time I looked at it.

We came across many little stalls in the area, selling everything from garments to special coloured sand but I didn't buy anything, even though Altaïr offered many a time, adamant that the money Malik had given him was my allowance for whatever I wanted.

"I'm not going to take that money!" I said for the second time in two minutes.

"I saw the way you eyed that scarf Asra." Altaïr said jovially, dangling the little purse up by its red cord and jangling its contents to and fro, as if trying to tempt a small cat.

"Yes, it was very pretty, "I agreed, "But I can make do without it. I have this one." I said, gripping the one draped around my shoulders for emphasis.

"But this isn't truly my money." He replied, replacing the money at his belt anyway. "Malik gave it to me for you." He said, lifting his head up again and eyeing me speculatively.

"Maybe if I find something actually useful." I replied, my arms crossed, hoping to inform him that the topic was officially closed.

"Your wish is my command Asra." He said winking at me and walking forwards, a smile dancing across his unusually soft looking lips.

I think I may have stopped breathing at that point.

It took me a few seconds to realise I was meant to follow him. My heart jumped back into a regular rhythm and I quickly sped up to join him at his side, avoiding his eyes should my heart launch out of my chest disobediently again. Damned unpredictable heart, I cursed, pursing my lips in thought.

I had no idea how long we'd been wandering around for but the time seemed to rush by faster than I could account for. Soon, the calm blue sky had begun to turn mottled pink and orange as the evening glow once again descended upon the land. The crowds of people had begun to 

dissipate as they began to return home; mothers ushering their unruly children back into the house to feed and bathe them and men returning from their jobs in the city, their weary bodies drifting into their homes to sleep.

I watched all the proceedings contentedly, not wanting to return home myself yet. Altaïr simply followed me wherever I wanted to go without complaint, for which I was grateful. I hoped I hadn't bored him completely. As the sky became darker, lamps inside the little white buildings began to come on and the quite buzz of chatter and insects became more noticeable. The city descended into a quiet hush, all except for the busy taverns that were still as lively as ever as we walked past them. Their doors were open and inviting and the candles glowed from within, illuminating the faces of merry makers. I watched with amusement through the window as one such man toppled head first over a table, sloshing drinks over the floor and onto people's laps as he attempted to stand up. The man was promptly shown the door and left to wander off home looking bewildered and staggering slightly as he went.

Altaïr placed a firm hand on my elbow and nudged me to turn around and face him. "Shall we go back now?" He asked smoothly, his hand still cupping my elbow.

I nodded silently, not quite sure whether words would work for me right then. Better to be safe than sorry, I thought as Altaïr let go and carried on ahead.

The journey back was much faster, as Altaïr seemed to have acquired his bearings sufficiently enough to know this city as if he was born here. He never failed to astound me. We entered the main entrance to the inn and silently crept by; our feet making only the lightest of sounds across the floor as we attempted not to wake the thin man curled over the desk. Altaïr reached the room first and held the door open for me to walk past him before following me in. I felt vaguely claustrophobic now with us together in the room, and I began to realise again how improper I had been in making the split second interjection. My face turned hot as I sat down on the bed, unsure of how Altaïr must have viewed such an unfeminine display of shameless selfishness which I had only just realised myself.

I glanced over to Altaïr's long formed, stretched languidly across his bed with his arms resting behind his head, as if to gage the answer. His eyes were closed but he was very much awake, simply resting.

"Asra." He said, his eyes still gently closed. I looked up to his face, even though he couldn't see me "Yes?" I replied hesitantly, unsure of quite what he wanted to say.

"Please know that I do not see you in any sort of negative light just because you wanted to share a room. You were simply scared and it is completely understandable."

I snapped my head up in utter surprise. "How did you know that's what I was thinking?!" I said incredulously.

"It is etched into in every tiny line across your face Asra." He replied laughingly, opening his eyes and sitting side on to his bed, facing me directly and mirroring my stance.

I felt myself turn red and put my head down embarrassedly to hide the colour of my cheeks.

"I could see you were worried about that thought. Anyone could." He continued nonplussed, standing up and adjusting his robes absentmindedly, as if to save me the embarrassment of eye contact.

"I see." I mumbled back, wringing my hands in my lap.

"Believe me Asra." He said firmly, gazing into my eyes with no hesitancy. I looked up and his eyes captured mine and there was nothing I could do but believe him. Those incredible eyes would not lie.

"I do believe you," I said quietly, "But I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

"There is no inconvenience." He replied, sitting back down on the bed as he spoke. "I can sleep anywhere. I don't even need a bed to be content." The playful smile tugged at his lips again and I couldn't help but return it with my own. I felt relieved and I adjusted my clothing before lying back on the bed, happier.

The only light in the room was from the bright moon shining through the window next to Altaïr's bed and even that was being blocked out every now and then by the clouds floating past it, so Altaïr strode over to the little wooden table and fished through the drawers looking for candles. There were two cheap, tallow candles and small clay holders to put them in but no source of fire to light them with. I saw a little frown form on Altaïr's face before he quickly excused himself and I could hear him running swiftly down the stairs. He appeared back less than a minute later with the saddle bags that had been secured around Khalil's stomach, in his hand. He removed something from them and no sooner had he done so; the two little candles were flickering in their little holders on the table. They were small but they steeped the room in a warm, glowing light and I felt calmer just watching the little flames glimmer and cast flickering shadows on the plain walls.

I watched stunned as Altaïr began to take of his clothes.

"What are you doing?!" I asked, slightly taken aback. He looked at me as if I had completely lost my mind.

"I'm removing my garments so as to sleep better." He said sarcastically, continuing to unbuckle the gauntlet on his right arm.

"Oh." I replied, feeling very self conscious at being in the same room. Damn my impulsive ways, I thought glumly, curling my legs up into my body and resting my chin on my knees in resignation.

For Altaïr, removing his armour and robes was truly an art. He had to take them off in sections and remove all his weaponry, before unbuckling all his gauntlets and prising them away from his battered body. I watched quietly as he laid down his long sword gently on the table, followed by his shorter, curved sword and then his assortment of small leather pouches containing his smaller throwing knives. That reminded me; I still needed to ask him how to throw those things properly...

He removed the leather armour from around his lower torso and then quickly unwrapped the deep scarlet sash, before throwing it all on a heap on the floor.

I think I stared a little too long at the next part.

Having removed all his armour and weaponry, he began to peel off his now-not-so-white robes and the light grey kameez. I caught another glimpse of his perfect chest, blighted by terrible scars, but covered by my muslin bandage that were now stained with dried, dark blood. His skin must still be tender as his teeth were gritted in pain when he removed the kameez.

I don't know what possessed me but something made me stand up and walk over to him, my hand outstretched.

I lightly touched his back and traced my finger down the length of one of his many scars, like I had wanted to do yesterday. Altaïr jumped at my touch and span his head around to face me.

"What are you doing?" He said surprised, his muscles tense.

"What has happened to you?" I breathed, ignoring his question and simply following the line of his scars.

His face turned dark. "Many things." He replied with a tone to match his expression but his muscles were relaxed again. He didn't move away from me though, like I had expected him to do.

I continued to absent mindedly trace the lines of his scars as they criss crossed across his back. I was surprised at the sheer number. Too much of his breathtaking skin was covered with them.

All of a sudden, Altaïr turned around and gripped me tightly to his chest, his arms enveloping me. I didn't know how to react, it was so unexpected, but I did what I instinctively felt I should. I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck and returned his embrace, drawing in his scent, instantly never wanting to forget this moment. I was small enough that Altaïr could rest his chin atop my head and he did so affectionately as we stayed quietly locked in our embrace. There were no words as there was no need, everything felt natural and I couldn't help but feel like this should have happened a long time before. His body was so warm and he smelt so distinctive. No other man in the world could smell as wonderful as Altaïr did to me now. His skin was surprisingly soft as I clasped my hands around the nape of his neck and sunk my hands into his soft hair, savouring the feel. He returned the favour and thrust his hands into my dark hair, feeling it between his fingers with his eyes closed in contentment, like mine. I semi broke away and looked into his eyes, wanting to know what he was feeling.

Our eyes locked for one brief second and silent passion passed between us. I thought things like this only happened in stories I'd heard from the older girls living next to me from books they'd secretly got hold of. I, for one, could vouch that that was not the case.

Altaïr caressed my cheek tenderly, his hand moving behind my head to stroke my earlobes as his other hand worked its way down my lower back, sending shivers down my spine. I planted gentle kisses on his rough jaw, working my way up, and judging by the way his breathing increased, I thought I must be doing it right. He responded by moving to my lips, tasting them with his own.

I was right. They _were_ unusually soft.

I responded strongly, not quite sure of the feeling washing over me. I'd never kissed a man before. I'd never even been this close to one before. His hands were cupping my face as he kissed me, his lips pressing urgently upon mine. My heart was hammering against my chest in response to his gentle touches as he lightly trailed his hand down my neck, his lips remaining on mine throughout. I trailed my fingertips along his muscular arms slowly and then wrapped my hands around his jaw and neck, savouring the magical feel of his skin. He broke the kiss unexpectedly and bent his head down to kiss my neck, his hands wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me even closer to him. My breathing had increased to dramatic proportions, coming quickly in my chest. I don't think I would have been able to speak, the pleasure was overwhelming. His head was resting in the nook of my collar bone and chin as I enclosed his head in my arms, holding him tightly to me.

Altaïr suddenly, but gently, parted his arms from around my waist and swept my legs from underneath me. He carried me easily to the small bed and laid me down on it before joining me and drawing me into his arms to rest against the length of his body. I nestled into his broad, warm side and he rested his chin on my hair in response, drawing me closer into his body until my head was lying gently in the crook of his neck.

I fell asleep listening to the sound of his gentle breathing, enclosed in his embrace. Again.

Paradise.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_Just a quick note from me! First off, I would like to apologise for the delay. I would like to say that's because I've been working hard revising for my exams but in actual fact, while writing this chapter, I suddenly got a brilliant idea for a later part of the story so I wrote it quickly down….that 'writing it quickly down' turned into me writing over 28 pages. Yah. 28 PAGES. SINGLE SPACED. 17, 199 Words. But hey, at least I've been focusing on the story; it just got me distracted in a big way! (I actually did have a big French exam as well, so that's part of the reason!) And Secondly, later on in the chapter, you'll hear 'shalwar' and 'kameez' being mentioned. These are traditional Arabic clothes, a shalwar being the trousers and the kameez being the shirt. This is what Altaïr wears under his kick ass robes. _

_(P.S This is really cool when you read it in 1/2 width... And also, sorry for the extreme length. I got nibbled by the writing bug ;D)_

_Enjoy my friends :D_

* * *

Despite the happiness and safety I felt as I lay wrapped in Altaïr's arms, nothing could stay away the dream. It came again that night, darker yet so much more vivid. The running was faster, the street was darker, the bonds were tighter…

And Altaïr was more menacing.

I woke up again, a layer of sweat cooling on my forehead and my head pounding with the images I found so terrifying.

"Asra?"

He called to me softly, his voice full of concern.

"I-I'm fine." I managed to stammer.

"Is it anything you wish to talk about?" He asked, his voice bold and strong as usual again, with more than a hint of curiosity.

Hell no, I thought instantly, blurting out a half formed reply to try and cover my horror.

"If you're sure." Altaïr replied, his expression soft and inviting. He lowered his head and kissed me again, deeply. I melted into a little pool of ecstasy. It was ever so slightly pathetic.

He raised himself off the bed and began to re-dress; picking items of clothing up off the floor from the heap at the end of the bed and pulling them over his head. I couldn't help but reflect upon what had happened last night. I warmed instantly at the thought and my heart went a little faster. Were all women this impressionable? I asked myself, or was it just me?

I glanced back to Altaïr, still as beautiful as ever, and decided that if any other women were in my position, they would feel the same way. So not just me then. I got off the bed and stretched, yawning as I dragged my still tired feet out of the door. I could have easily gone back to sleep but the dreams still disturbed me slightly and were fresh in my mind so I thought it would be best not to tempt fate.

"Where do you plan to go, my sweet?" Altaïr said teasingly, as he finished strapping on his long sword to his side.

"What?" I replied, trying to feign nonchalance at his term of endearment. In truth my heart had just tried to escape my chest.

"I estimate that it is only around five o'clock…"

"And?" I replied, only slightly shocked that we had slept so long into the day.

"…in the morning." He finished, smiling.

"Oh." I said lamely. Well that changed things slightly. I glanced over to the little window for confirmation. The pink haze of dawn had yet to descend over Phasaelis and the sky was still a dark blue. So he was right then.

I dragged myself back to the edge of the bed and flopped down, my limbs feeling like lumps of rock. "Why are you getting changed then?" I asked pulling my head off the bed, noticing that he was still re-adjusting his robes.

"I have things I need to buy." He replied.

"To buy?" I repeated stupidly, "Who exactly do you think will be awake to sell you things at this hour?"

"This town rises early, believe me." He replied, the corner of his lips turned up with my favourite lopsided grin.

He turned around and walked towards the door quietly, his soft leather boots barely making a noise on the floor.

"I'm coming too!" I shouted and launched up from the bed, before proceeding to come crashing spectacularly back down again as I tripped over my own feet in my haste.

"Careful!" Altaïr cried out before I smashed into the front of him. He reacted instantly and stopped me in my place with his iron grip, saving me from almost certain nose bashing on the hard ground.

I could help but laugh as my face flushed pink at my distinct lack of balancing prowess. I had an irritating tendency to fall over when standing up straight would be the better option and to trip over my own feet due to my brain being too slow to catch up with my speedier movements.

"Sorry!" I breathed as Altaïr levered me up by my forearms.

"Not at all." He replied courteously as he held out his hand for me. I smiled graciously and took his hand as I followed him out the little door, dropping two smaller gold coins on the desk as we left.

* * *

Altaïr was certainly right about this town rising early. The streets were already alive with the babble of merchants' voices as they conversed with each other and set up their stalls for another day of hard selling. The streets weren't so full at this ungodly hour in the morning though; the vast majority of the citizens had the common sense to stay in bed at this time. Only a few of the richer and bargain-savvy women had arisen early to try and purchase the best products at the cheapest price, as in the morning, the items on offer tended to be more varied. They bustled around in their fine robes, truly beautiful as their waves of hair cascaded down their backs and their opalescent skin glowed in the early morning light. Why couldn't my hair be like that? I moped, grabbing a fistful of my long, dark hair which had become so knotted and unkempt in the last few days. As much as it depressed me, it _did_ remind me of my need for a comb.

Altaïr was by my side as we walked along the lightening streets, his eyes on the lookout for an apothecary. He needed new supplies and I'd insisted on new bandages; the ones still on him were dirty and covered in blood.

Being a typical man though, he simply wandered around, never asking where anything was. Although, with Altaïr's total self assurance, he never quite looked like he _was_ 'wandering', he always looked like he had a purpose, and even his walk demanded total respect. I was honestly happy to be on his good side. God forbid I should ever switch sides, I thought grimly.

My wandering mind was brought back into the present as we passed a stall that was surrounded by a gaggle of pretty women; their faces alight with girlish excitement as they picked up objects and turned them around in their hands, inspecting them from every angle.

"Altaïr, may I have a quick look?" I said, gesturing to the large stall, intrigued as to what could be causing such feminine joy… not that I was generally interested in such things. Okay. Maybe sometimes...

"By all means." He replied.

I struggled to see over the women's shoulders as they bustled around the main stall front, still busying themselves with the objects on show. Unfortunately, the crowd appeared to be static in that one place. "Am I really this short?!" I muttered exasperatedly under my breath.

"Yes." His smooth voice replied.

I turned to see Altaïr leaning nonchalantly, arms crossed, against the wooden post, a smirk playing across his lips.

"How on earth did you hear that?" I replied, ever so slightly in awe.

He looked at me good humouredly, "I pride myself on acute hearing and vision." He replied, still grinning. I turned back to face the stall, ignoring Altaïr's mirthful expression and attempted to crane my neck yet again.

I heard Altaïr laugh under his breath before suddenly, my stomach jumped and the stall front came into clear view but from a rather unexpected angle.

"Woah!" I shouted as Altaïr's arms wrapped around my legs and I was effortlessly lifted up above my normal eye line.

"Put me down Altaïr!" I cried out furiously as Altaïr casually stood behind the crowd of woman with me easily in his arms, as if he was doing nothing more than waiting for an acquaintance.

"Were you able to see from down here?" he said, his liquid smooth voice showing his enjoyment of the situation in its entirety.

"No!" I shouted at him, trying to steady myself on his shoulders while gaining advantages glances at the products on offer.

"Well then," He replied, smiling, "the best place would be for you to stay up there then, wouldn't it?"

"Fine then!" I retorted, feeling slightly safer as his arms gripped tighter around my legs, "just don't move!"

"As you wish!" He replied.

As stupid and uncomfortable as I felt being propped up like this, I really _could_ see a lot more. The women were fawning over jewellery and hair ornaments, laden with what looked like coloured stones. The only useful thing I did see was a comb, a pretty green one with a little green stone set into the handle.

"Right," I said forcefully to Altaïr.

"Ready to descend my lady?" Altaïr called, his voice playfully mocking.

"Yes, let me go!" I said, my arms crossed and my lips pursed in annoyance. His hold on my legs suddenly loosened and I managed to land on my feet surprisingly daintily next to his tall form.

"Did you see anything you wanted?" He asked politely, his beautiful eyes full of interest.

"I did in fact." I replied, "Is it alright if a purchase a comb?"

"Of course." He answered, his hands already handing me the little leather bag full of money tied with the red silk cord. He dropped it into my open palms, the distinctive heaviness of the money surprising me with its sheer weight. There was a lot of gold in there. I pulled out a single gold coin and handed him back the pouch. My only problem now was my distinct inability to get anywhere near the merchant.

"This is just great," I sighed to Altaïr, who was still standing just behind me, "I can't get anywhere near. What is it with these women?"

"They are easily pleased Asra. Show them shiny things and they are instantly intrigued, like soft clay in your hands."

"So true." I agreed. I felt him move behind me and all in a second he was in front of me and moving the women out of the way.

I watch, mouth agape, as he parted the vast sea of women out of the way, allowing me to pass. I wished that the ground would open up and allow me safe passage to its deepest darkest depths to save me the embarrassment of looking these women in the eye.

"Come Asra." He said, his eyes twinkling but his voice giving nothing away. I stomped irately forward to the main stall front, attempting to ignore the disgruntled comments of the women as they shuffled around to try and accommodate Altaïr and I in their midst.

The merchant was busy passing around ornaments for the women to fawn over but when he saw me, money in hand and ready to purchase, he turned his full attention to me and flashed a wide smile. He was quite handsome and the women were as interested in him as they were in his products. He had short curly hair and his skin was dark and smooth, and he wore a rich, expensive looking blood red tunic of obvious fine weave.

"May I take a look?" I asked, gesturing to the little green comb.

"Of course." He replied, flashing me another wide smile and handing me the comb delicately with his perfectly manicured hands.

I turned it around in my hands carefully, only half inspecting it. Most of my attention was on Altaïr who had become quite an attraction in the last few seconds. I looked on in amusement as a small group of woman kept repeatedly glancing at him and whispering to each other. I smiled at Altaïr and winked exaggeratedly; he smiled wryly back and rolled his eyes, making me giggle.

"Madam?" The merchant said, trying to rush me in the most professional way possible.

"Oh…sorry," I replied, turning back to him, "Can I have this please?"

I handed over the gold coin into his outstretched palm, his dark cobalt eyes alight with typical merchant-esque excitement.

A sudden warm feeling spread around me as I felt Altaïr's hand clasp possessively around my waist. He drew me into him and I melted slightly in his arms while at the same time trying to pretend everything was normal as I waited for the merchant to wrap up my purchase. He never failed to have this effect on me and I hadn't even known him for that long. I glanced around at the women, having a feeling he was trying to be cruel and irk his admirers. I was completely right of course; the women looked shocked and were giving me dirty looks as they talked under their breath. Altaïr whispered huskily into my ear, "Are they looking angry yet?"

"Oh, absolutely livid." I replied matter-of-factly.

"Perfect." He whispered into my ear, his breath tickling the side of my face.

The merchant held out a carefully wrapped package and I took it gratefully, smiling at him and waiting for change to my gold coin.

When no change came in the next second and the merchant simply smiled at me, Altaïr laughed and led me away by my waist and left hand, the other hand still clasping my comb.

"But wait Altaïr!" I said confused, my eyes still on the merchant, "I haven't got my change yet."

"There is no change Asra." He said laughing and leading me away more forcefully.

"You mean it was a whole gold coin?!" I said incredulously, turning my head to face him and the direction I was being dragged.

"I can think of no other explanation." He replied, amused.

"What a huge rip off!" I pouted.

"Let me see it." He asked. I handed it over to him willingly, unimpressed at the sheer amount it had cost.

He unwrapped it and turned it expertly around in his hands. I looked at him intently, unsure of what he was doing.

"You haven't been ripped off Asra." He said after a second or two, "This is an emerald." He finished, pointing to the little green stone in the handle.

"What's that?" I replied, none the wiser as to how this justified its extortionate price.

"It's a precious stone." He answered.

I looked at him blankly.

"They're expensive." He explained, seeing my expression.

"Riiiight." I replied unconvinced, taking the comb back from him and replacing it in the bag.

"Just trust me." He said as he strode away from the stall, resuming his normal rambling path in search of something he didn't know the exact location of.

"But it was your money!" I cried as I ran to catch up, "I feel bad for spending so much of it on a trivial item!"

"Ah Asra, that is where you are wrong." He tutted, grinning as he spoke.

"Huh?" I said blankly.

"This is _Malik's_ money." He said, jiggling the little leather pouch in the air.

"Ohhh." I smiled, pocketing the comb and reminding myself to thank Malik later.

* * *

At last Altaïr and I had managed to chance upon an apothecary and its strong smell hit me as we entered into the low doorway, a mingled aroma of herbs and poultices, not at all unpleasant. The little haggard old man who owned the shop was incredibly knowledgeable, as was Altaïr as they conversed at length, about the benefits of many different types of herbs. Altaïr's use of medicines was very unusual when compared to the normal procedure for people these days. People believed that diseases and illnesses were caused by Allah and so many people died, as all they and their family did was pray and try to repent. Another of the many reasons for why I now led my life without religion.

I felt sorry for the man at the counter, for he couldn't have that much business; Apothecaries were seen as some obstruction to the right and God fearing way that people should lead their life and so were terribly unpopular, despite their obvious health values. The liquid that Altaïr had first used on my cheek was no doubt the sole reason that the wound had now become nothing more than a faint pink line, instead of an angry, open wound that refused to heal.

"Do you have any ground ivy?" Inquired Altaïr as I watched him stride around the little shop, staring intently at the labels on all the jars stacked in rows all along the four walls.

"Indeed I do sir." Replied the man, his wizened face thoughtful as he turned around and ran his finger along the labels of the jars behind him until he came to one filled with little green, fan shaped leaves. He unscrewed the lid and emptied a few of the leaves into a large marble mortar before looking back at Altaïr.

"Whole or crushed sir?"

"Crushed." Altaïr replied absent mindedly, still looking intently at the contents of the jars.

The old man proceeded to massacre the little leaves in the mortar; repeatedly mashing them vigorously with the pestle. It was quite scary actually. He was getting very into it.

I too decided to look around. I was not well taught in the medicinal properties of herbs but I was eager to learn .

"What's ground ivy Altaïr?" I asked quietly, walking up to his side.

"It's a little ground creeping plant that's incredibly useful for healing wounds." He replied.

"And why do you know all these things? Why do you need all these plants?" I continued.

"I make a point of knowing what I can about as many things as possible." He said distantly. I frowned slightly; it was a bit too obvious that he's made that answer deliberately vague.

"And it's always useful having medicinal plants on hand. You never know what wounds you might sustain on any given journey."

Considering what had happened in the space of only a few days, it seemed like we needed a whole medical army behind us, I sighed to myself.

The herb man behind the counter had managed to sufficiently mutilate the poor ground ivy and was scooping out the mixture into a little glass container.

"Anything else sir?" The man asked brightly after putting a little lid on the glass container of green mush and setting it aside on the counter.

"Henbane and Hashish." Altaïr replied his voice a little lower on those words.

The word 'Hashish' seemed to have worse connotations to the little man behind the counter than it did to me as his face darkened the moment Altaïr mentioned it. I'd never even heard of the thing.

"Hashish you say?" Asked the man, his voice taking an accusatory tone.

"Did I stutter?" Altaïr asked sarcastically.

I stifled a snort as he said it. The old man didn't seem to hear the snub.

"Hashish is not a common substance required for normal citizens." The man persisted, his eyes growing ever smaller in unspoken accusation.

"Well then, maybe I'm not a normal citizen." Altaïr replied pointedly, staring at the old man from beside me.

I was mystified as to what was the problem with this Hashish and simply continued looking at the jars instead, letting Altaïr get on with what he needed to do.

The old man let it drop and unwillingly bent down and fished under the main counter before pulling out a small jar of a dark brown pasty looking substance. He scooped out some of the unappetising looking paste and emptied it into a little square of linen before wrapping it up and placing it on the counter next to the container of annihilated ivy leaves.

"What was the other thing you wanted?" grumbled the old man, a far less amicable air about him now.

"Henbane." Altaïr replied simply, looking at the man intently, daring him to say anything else.

The man, swiftly but silently raised another jar out from under the counter and emptied a few of the leaves into another, bigger piece of linen, then he wrapped it up and slammed it down next to the other two purchases.

"That will be all." Altaïr said, beating the man to the line.

Altaïr gathered up his purchases and deposited them in the leather pouch on his waist before paying the man and leaving without another word.

I hurriedly thanked the man before bowing out of the low entrance and following Altaïr.

"What was all that about?" I asked him once we had walked a fair distance from the shop.

"Hashish isn't associated with-" he paused for a split second, "…desirable people. He was simply speculating and being narrow minded."

"What is it used for?" I inquired.

"It is primarily used as a painkiller but in large doses it can have undesirable effects."

"And Henban?" I continued interested.

"Hen_bane_." He corrected.

"Oh sorry, _Henbane_." I replied, lengthening the syllables for sarcastic effect.

"Henbane is also a strong pain killer, fatal in larger doses but very effective if used properly. Hashish on the other hand is not fatal but can, and most often does, induce hallucinations of flying." He laughed, sounding as if he was reminiscing.

"You make it sound as if that's happened to you before!" I replied smiling.

"Not to me no. But to Malik." He replied, grinning at the memory.

My interest was piqued further now. "Malik?" I repeated.

"Oh yes. Has he never told you about this?"

I shook my head.

He winked at me shrewdly. "He was probably too embarrassed."

"What happened?"

"It was actually only a few weeks ago. Malik was in a celebratory mood and got a little carried away with the hashish. I found him attempting to jump of a plinth from his room in the inn."

I audibly gasped.

"No, no, don't misunderstand." Said Altaïr hastily, hearing me. "The plinth was a mere four feet up. They worst he could have done was sprain something. No, the amusing thing was the way he was going about it. He was wobbling along the plinth, waving his arms…-"

I looked at him intently, injecting mock severity into my expression.

"…Arm." Altaïr amended guilty, his eyes were hard. I'd meant it as a joke but Altaïr seemed far more serious about it than I had intended.

"Please go on." I said quickly, trying to retrieve him from his brooding.

"He was singing a rather crude song… well, less like singing it and more like slurring it. Nevertheless, he was shouting it out and making his way along the plinth. I distinctly remember asking him what he was doing and he replied that he was going to fly to Jerusalem and buy you a present. At that time, I didn't fully know who you were and so I thought he had gone mad."

The mental image was a treat in itself. I laughed just imagining my normally sensible and upstanding cousin stumbling along a plank outside his room.

"What did you do?" I grinned, revelling in the thought of being able to tease Malik with this story.

"I jumped on the plinth and caught him just before he jumped off. He then passed out but I carried him to his bed and let him sleep it off."

"Was he alright?"

"Completely fine yes. We just never let him near any hashish again; it is not for recreational use." He ended sternly.

"What a thought." I sighed, making sure to firmly imprint the image in my mind. Whenever I was slightly less cheerful, I would now just think of Malik slurring a crude song while staggering around on a plinth and I would instantly cheer up.

We'd walked quite far at this point and had come to a clearing in the city. I could only assume that it was the central square as the amount of people had increased tenfold. But something was different this time; there was a large crowd but they weren't moving. Everything was silent apart from a booming disembodied voice, shouting out over the enraptured crowd. It felt like we had just walked in upon a private meeting.

"You need to support Conrad of Montferrat for he is the one to lead us to salvation!"

The voice cried, punctuating his words with pauses for dramatic effect. I could now see that man responsible for the voice; he was tall and lean with dark shaved hair and much paler than the common citizens. I could only assume that he was in fact, from over the sea, possibly England. He was a vastly bland man but you could easily see - or more precisely, hear - why the crowd stood so enthralled. His voice was utterly commanding, deep and rich, and drew you in before you could even fully appreciate what he was saying. You could not help but stop and listen. I glanced over to Altaïr ready with questions but was met only with a distinctly unimpressed gaze and so I left my questions unanswered and turned back in the direction of the man.

"He waits for the approval from the barons and then he is free to rule Jerusalem the way it should be ruled! He is a great man; intelligent and a leader like no other! Let us embrace him as the rightful leader and look forward to the day when he rules us as King! He is the true King of Jerusalem and with him, we can become the great nation we once were!" He paused between the last three words and roared them out, earning shouts of agreement from the crowd and smatterings of applause.

I heard Altaïr sneer from beside me and could see his expression of distaste.

"What offends you so?" I enquired, for I myself was rather impressed with this man and his oratory skills. And of course, Conrad of Montferrat was well known to me, for he was instrumental in the shambles that was the third crusade.

"He is not what this man claims," Altaïr replied derisively, "But more to the point, I'm appalled at the impressionability of these people." He jerked his head in the direction of the crowd. "Look at them! They hang on his every word like beggars to a wealthy man."

It was indeed true. The crowds' eyes even appeared to glaze over with admiration for the man and his words. The man may not look like much but he had a power beyond many others.

"But, Conrad is the problem too. That man…" he said, jerking his head in the direction of the voice. "…is polluting their brains. Conrad is nothing like he describes. He is a ridiculous man; his only rightful claim to the throne being through his marriage to Isabella of Jerusalem. He is no more King than I am." Altaïr snorted snidely.

"Be that as it may Altaïr, he is not officially elected yet." I said.

"You are correct and so there is hope yet." Altaïr replied. "But, the decision is set to be made in a few weeks from now and it will almost certainly go in Conrad's favour."

"I do not think he is a bad man." I noted absent mindedly.

"No, he is not a bad man; he's a stupid one, albeit a fortuitous fighter. But I think there will be a price on his head in a matter of days after his election."

"You think so?" I replied thoughtfully.

"Hmm." He replied noncommittally, "Men in power have many enemies."

"Oh." I said lamely. I hadn't expected him to say that.

"That, unfortunately, is the way politics works." He sighed.

Altaïr seemed to be getting overly brooding so I grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the main square and down a small side street. I heard him take a breath to speak and jumped in before he could say anything.

"No, I don't know where we're going but we weren't going to achieve anything standing there, were we?" I let go of his arm and began to take in my surroundings again. The street we were in now was wide and spacious with houses enclosing it on each side, their colourful awnings providing shade as families sat outside their homes. The man's voice was still audible from where we were.

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Altaïr said, sounding sort of impressed.

"There were only two things you could have really said: 'Let go of me!' or, 'Where are we going?' so I hedged my bets." I explained, grinning at him from beneath my eyelashes.

"I am _much_ too much of a gentleman to say such a heinous thing as 'let go of me' to a lady." He replied solemnly.

"Indeed. That is what I thought." I agreed.

I caught sight of an old man sitting outside the open door of a minuscule building, fanning himself with a folded up palm leaf. It drew my attention to the shop itself and I could see it from a distance that it definitely sold fabric.

"Altaïr look." I said, "We can get muslin from there."

He followed my direction of sight and nodded once before changing direction and striding into the shop. I went ahead and quickly selected the finest muslin I could find; thin but light and strong. It would do perfectly, especially as Altaïr's wounds were in dire need of re-bandaging or else they'd go rancid. The old man must have snuck in when our backs were turned for he was there the instant we turned around. He caught me by surprise but Altaïr was as composed as ever as he took the roll of muslin from my hands and placed it on the counter.

We came out a few minutes later carrying a large folded square of the muslin, enough for many bandages to come; I only hoped that we didn't need to use it. The sky was still a vague pink, interlinked with blue as it began to break the clouds in two for the grand appearance of the sun. It wouldn't be long now as it was already around 7am in the morning; a time when the sane people began to rise to start a day's work.

Altaïr lead the way briskly back to the inn, stopping at their stables to retrieve Khalil and Maysaa. They were still dozing on their feet as we arrived but soon perked up as we scratched their noses and began to pack their saddle bags.

I took Maysaa's reign in my hand and led her out the stable first, stroking her cheek softly as we walked. Altaïr followed and Khalil began to lunge playfully at Maysaa's tail as it swished around temptingly in front of him.

I saw a sudden movement behind me and all in a moment, Altaïr was astride Khalil.

"Show off." I muttered under my breath, rolling my eyes in mock disgust.

"Oh Asra. This is normal for me and you would do it to if you had the ability." He laughed.

I gawked at him again. "I hope you realise that being able to hear so well is bordering on an invasion of privacy." I snapped, recovering fast.

He simply smiled serenely as he tapped Khalil into a trot, grinning as he past Maysaa and I. I rolled my eyes again before quickly mounting Maysaa and riding off before he had a chance to run further away.

I came up close behind him and we continued trotting along the main route out of Phasaelis until we came to a point where the amount of houses started to drop, marking the unofficial end of the city. I took one last sweeping look at Phasaelis from over my shoulder, appreciating its bustling charm before turning back to focus on the rest of the journey.

"Right." I said boldly. "I want to follow the river a bit further along and dress your wounds, wash your robes and wash myself." I indicated to the bright flowing water flowing down to the right with my free hand.

I watched his lips twitched as I spoke and held his gaze but I found myself doing the same; his smile was infectious.

"You're really in no hurry to reach Berothai are you?"

"Absolutely not, no." I smiled, trotting along in front of him. "In truth, I am still annoyed that you stole me away from Jerusalem."

"Oh is that so?" Altaïr replied, his eyebrows raised in challenge.

"Indeed." I replied, grinning as I looked back at him and picking up the pace when he came up too close behind me.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry for that inconvenience. As an apology, I shall be glad to engage in your frivolous, time wasting activities." He replied sarcastically.

"I shall be sure to make them _extra_ frivolous and _extra_ time wasting, just for you."

I smiled placidly at him before jabbing my ankles into Maysaa's flanks and holding on slightly tighter as she picked up her speed in response. Altaïr followed close behind as we ran for a few minutes, sticking closely to the river bank until I spotted a secluded area under a tree. I pulled Maysaa to a stop and padded along to the tree leisurely, enjoying the warmth of the sun as it began to shine through. I quickly hopped off and she greedily trotted over to a patch of luscious looking grass, as did Khalil the moment Altaïr dismounted.

"I take it this is a good spot for you?" He commented dryly.

"It will do fine, yes." I replied, sauntering up to the edge of the river and noting with surprise that it was very clear. I squatted down and Altaïr came to sit beside me, one legged propped up while the other lolled to the side and he rested one arm on his supporting leg. He'd removed his hood and looked positively dashing.

"Would you hand me the muslin?" I asked, frustrated that the water wasn't staying still enough for me to check my reflection. Altaïr smirked but stayed where he was, instead, he gave a low whistle and I watched as Khalil's ears perked up and he came trotting along in response until he reached Altaïr. At that point, I would have expected Altaïr to stand up to reach for his saddle bags but instead he whistled slightly higher and pointed to the ground, tapping Khalil's front legs as he made the sound. Khalil sat down at once when he heard Altaïr whistle, bending at his knees and sitting their placidly. I stared, looking from Altaïr to Khalil and back again before becoming unable to conceal how impressed I was. Altaïr looked at me lazily, never taking his eyes of me as he pulled out the muslin and patted Khalil's rump, at which point he stood up and trotted back to the patch of green grass. Altaïr handed the muslin to me with one hand, looking lazily at me from the corner of his eyes, knowing he'd impressed me.

"You sir," I said, taking the muslin from him with both hands, "…are an unbelievable show off, not to mention utterly lazy."

"You're just jealous of my horsemanship." He replied idly.

"That too but still! You could have at least got up!"

"And you could have at least done it yourself instead of asking me." He countered.

"Touché." I replied, admitting my defeat with a coquettish smile.

Together, Altaïr and I ripped the muslin into long shreds, careful to keep it off the ground and un-infected. I held all the long strips in my hand and wrapped them back into a tight ball, placing them on top of my shawl for protection.

"Do you want me to wash your clothes?" I asked quickly, remembering the way they smelt metallic and bloody and recoiling slightly.

"If that is alright with you." He replied politely, but began to pull of his weapons and leather belt anyway. I took them from him and carefully laid them beside the pile of muslin bandages, noticing how heavy the sword felt in my hand. Maybe it was the weight of kills, I thought grimly.

The river here was not too deep, the current was fairly weak and my knees were cramping from resting on them so I simply removed my shoes and stepped into the river, still wearing my shalwar. The river was cold but felt good as it washed over my tired legs. I held out my hands for Altaïr's clothes and noted with horror that he had handed me _everything_.

His kameez _and _his shalwar.

His _shalwar_.

He was standing in his _undergarments_.

I blinked foolishly, my face turning hot while at the same time, not being able to take my eyes away from his body. I felt distinctly like a stalker but I had to give him credit for his beauty. When he could have any woman, it did make you wonder why he seemed even vaguely interested in me. Or maybe that was just because he was stuck with me. How depressing.

At first, I was so flustered that I actually dropped his clothes in the river and I panicked as they began to float away. Luckily I managed to grab them before they completely disappeared but I had to do an awkward jump to retrieve them, making me most of me sopping wet instead of just my lower half. By this time, Altaïr had strolled unabashed around to Khalil and was absent mindedly looking through the saddle bags.

"Do you, by any chance, frequent the local baths in your area?" I called to him, my face still slightly hot and my eyes still wandering, but the clothes safely in my hands and submerged under the water.

"I do." He replied, looking up from over Khalil's head. "Why?"

"Because it would explain your complete comfortableness in front of women semi-naked…" I mumbled back.

Baths were generally run by women and they would walk in and out of the bathing area despite the men being naked. This tended to be a source of embarrassment for the men at first but afterwards, you soon learnt that the women didn't care you and had to do it anyway. Hence why I assumed Altaïr was so comfortable. I, on the other hand, was not used to such casualness of nature, apart from my brief stint working in the baths myself, except that whenever a person made to take off their clothes, I ran away like a hound out of hell.

I did like Christian expressions, I mused, my attention flippantly diverted.

"Does me being half-dressed offend you?" He teased.

"More like dazzles me." I muttered to myself. But by now, I really should have stopped whispering to myself and assuming it would stay secret. Me and my thoroughly mortal nature were no match for Altaïr and his superior hybrid mind reading techniques.

"Oh, so that's what it is?" He cooed smoothly, resting his forearms on Khalil's back. I'd been looking at him up until that point but his amused gaze made me vigorously pummel his clothes, keeping my eye on the task at hand. Interestingly enough, he was still wearing his gauntlets. Which actually made him look rather stupid.

When I didn't answer I heard him laugh shortly and walk towards me, sitting right by the edge of the river and dipping his feet in next to me.

"I don't know why it bothers you so, these are acting as a shirt," He said, indicating to his bandaged, covered chest. "And these are practically shalwars anyway." He said, plucking the corner of his long undergarments and pulling at them.

"Anyway." He continued, "I have never had a problem with nudity. We all have the same body."

"Women don't you fool." I replied sarcastically. He simply rolled his eyes but I continued. "And not everyone can be as godly as you." I chided, still channelling all my remaining embarrassed energy out into pummelling the clothes underwater. "Normal men would get a confidence hit if you ever stripped off in front of them!"

Although, he _was _right. I was just being an aimless sheep and conforming to the ideas of social taboo. The fact was that Altaïr was almost covered anyway, apart from his legs from about mid-thigh and his shoulders. He laughed heartily and looked at me amused as he sat carelessly by the river bank.

"I'm sorry that I have offended your maiden sensibilities. I shall now go and wash." He announced and he levered his body tentatively off the edge of the bank and into the water, wading in a bit further until he was in as deep as me. He quickly unbuckled both gauntlets and left them on the side of the bank.

"Hold on!" I said as I saw he was making to swim off further up river.

"What?" He replied, turning back to face me.

"Your bandages." I reprimanded. "Take these." I said and dumped the pile of wet robes into his hands before he even had a chance to protest. "And turn round." I ordered.

I unwound the bandages and once again looked at the wound to his side, frowning as I did. It was going to become another scar to add to his collection.

"How does it feel?" I asked, looking up at him.

"If I twist to far either way it hurts but apart from that, it is already healing quite well."

"Good." I replied, rising back up and reliving him of the washing. Altaïr's lips tugged up at the corners and I saw him break into a smile as he swam up river, following the slow current.

While he bathed further away, I took all the clothes and stepped out of the river, throwing each item of clothing over a branch of the tree to dry in the sun. I noticed with dismay that the blood had only faded, not actually been washed away. But it would have to do, I though resolutely.

The sun was luxuriously warm and so while Altaïr was gone, I pulled off my green tunic and rolled up the sleeves of my kameez and the legs of my shalwar. They were a light, nearly translucent grey and were very cool to wear. I picked up the tunic and tried to rub away a stain I'd seen on it slightly earlier…I grimaced as I noticed it looked a little like blood. I liked this little tunic, it was more like a sleeveless dress with light green trim around the edges but it was made decent by the undershirt and trousers I wore below it. I folded it up into a neat pile and rested it beneath my head, feeling sleepy under the mid-morning sun. I tried to just close my eyes and just relax but I felt my eyelids getting heavier by the second. I'm almost one hundred percent certain that I dozed off at that point.

I woke up to an odd feeling on my forehead.

_Drip drip drip_. What was that?

_Drip drip drip. _I opened one eye and Altaïr was sitting next to me, soaking wet and drying in the sun. I felt another droplet hit my forehead and splash into my eye. It was the water dripping off his body. I sat up groggily and stretched out.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" he asked, his voice smooth like silk.

"No, no, not at all. Surface run-off did." I said sleepily, gesturing to my wet forehead before wiping it dry with my forearm. "How long have I been asleep by the way?"

"About half an hour." He said and smiled slyly as he flicked water at me.

"Ugh, yes, I'm quite aware of my need for a bath. I'm going now." I shouted jokingly, picking up my tunic from behind the ground and standing up, rolling my sleeves and trouser legs back down. Just as I made to walk, Altaïr's hand shot out and he caught my wrist, pulling me back towards him grinning.

"What?" I asked, confused.

He just smiled, his eyes sparkling but he pulled on my arm to indicate he wanted me more at his level. I crouched down and he leaned forward and kissed me. All my inhibitions were promptly annihilated, as they were every time Altaïr touched me or even so much as looked at me. I dropped my tunic to the side and wrapped my arms around his neck instead. He pulled me into him and I kissed him deeply. A few seconds later, he broke away.

"It's alright. You can go now, I'd just forgotten what your lips felt like, but I've remembered now." He said huskily.

I smiled but playfully punched his shoulder in return before walking off without another glance as he laughed from behind me and I tried to breathe properly. "By the way!" I called, still looking forwards, "Don't you dare look."

"I'm surprised you would even think I would abandon my gentlemanly demeanour like that." He said, exaggerating his shock at such a hideous slur on his nature.

When I finally got fully into the river, it was pure bliss. The water was quite cold but I revelled in being able to wash the dirt of my body. I made sure I was far enough away before submerging to my neck and pulling off all my clothes, quickly washing away the grime of travel and dunking my head in to wash my hair. I scrubbed my face and shook my clothes around in the water at a feeble attempt to make them a little bit cleaner.

I spent the next ten minutes ruing the moment I ever decided to take my clothes off because trying to put them back on _in _the water was a damn sight harder than removing them in the first place. At last, when my shalwar and kameez were back on and I'd managed to yank my tunic over my head, I swam to the side and climbed with difficulty onto the bank before trudging back, completely sodden to where Altaïr was lying on the ground, soaking up the sun.

I took the comb from the package in Maysaa's saddle bags and began to brush it through my hair. The water had tamed it slightly and it was more or less willing to comply without a fight or too much pain. I pulled it back and quickly plaited it to keep it out my face and put the comb back in the bags for safe keeping.

I looked surreptitiously at Altaïr then down at my wet clothes, trying to work out how he would react if I hugged him while still soaking wet.

"I know what you're thinking Asra. And if you so much as walk within a metre of me, I will not be held accountable for my reactions." He said dozily, confirming my thoughts on his response rather well.

"You had to ruin my fun didn't you?"

"I am meant to be protecting you and if protecting you means stopping you from forcing me to hurt you… then I think I've done my job." He grinned, raising himself of the ground in one fluid movement and walking over to Khalil.

I laughed in disbelief at his logic and followed him, reaching Maysaa and leading her away from the tree out into the open sunlight.

"Are you ready to go then?" I asked, already levering myself up into the saddle.

"Of course." He replied and was already in the saddle and in front of me by the time I'd uttered my last syllable. I pulled Maysaa around and had her follow on after Altaïr who was already confidently leading the way. All I had to do was sit back, relax –as much as I could in the saddle- and dry off in the sun as Maysaa followed Khalil dutifully along the road.

* * *

Altaïr and I suited each other's company well for neither of us was overly talkative and it was a great relief not to have to spend the journey feebly attempting to make conversation, simply to fill the silence. Both of us would muse over our own thoughts without interruption along the way.

Although, when I had nothing to occupy me with, I invariably darted from topic to topic in my mind, never stopping to mull over the same thought for long.

But that was then and this was now.

Altaïr was on my mind more often than not. It was among other things…rather incapacitating…

As much as it made me feel happy and a little giddy, it also filled me with niggling doubts. I wasn't sure whether what had passed between us in the last day or so was no more than a diversion to him, or whether it actually meant something. I wanted it to be the latter with such a burning desire that I was far too close to asking him out loud. I wouldn't normally think like this but certain things were making me unsure. Perhaps it was the fact that we were still heading for Berothai and he seemed contented to take me the whole way there. If he truly wanted to be with me, would he not suggest we turn back from Berothai's direction and go home? Would he truly drop me of at my relatives home and leave?

Ugh…I'd never acted like such a…_girl_.

The thought dulled my cheerful mood and I tried hard not to think about it. I tried to assure myself that I was only thinking so far into it like this because I had nothing else to do. It also irritated me. I'd never quite been this... soft… since I was a child. I'd always been fairly self assured, albeit a bit shy and these feelings of uncertainty grated upon my nerves.

Maysaa must have picked up on my now dark mood for she began to flick her ears around nervously and whinny quietly. I patted her neck to try and reassure her but I was still feeling thoroughly and irrationally irritated. I mumbled thanks in my head for Altaïr being uninterested in conversation.

Luckily, today had become a bad day in terms of weather by the usual standards. The sun had now been smothered by big, puffy white clouds and kept the otherwise unbearable heat, bearable, thus allowing us to keep travelling through the hottest part of the day. We were following the River Jordan up, even though it was far out of sight but the constant presence of slightly lusher looking trees along the way was a sure sign that the river was still near. Slightly north-east of Phasaelis was a small city called Alexandrium, and beyond that, a place called Coreae – as Altaïr had informed me a few hours in – but we were not going to stop at either because we were already stocked up with any supplies we would need.

I deflated a little inside when he said we wouldn't be stopping. My desire to visit new cities was becoming insatiable and these two new places were like metal to my magnet-style personality. Sadly, we truly did pass straight past them; they were but vague shapes beyond the uneven terrain as we rode by.

"Ah. You really weren't joking." I sighed.

"I'm sorry Asra but there is no point in stopping unnecessary, it only holds us up." He replied.

I felt a little stir in my stomach as he spoke; his words added to my current insecurities and I cursed, pressing my lips together and casting my eyes down to distract myself. Altaïr didn't speak again and we simple rode on, stopping only once to water the horses after moving closer towards the river.

In no time at all the sun was setting and it was hard to believe he had spent the whole day on horseback. I cringed at the thought of trying to dismount and thought only of the food I knew Altaïr had packed that morning.

"Ready to stop Asra?" Altaïr asked, his voice gliding through the silence.

"Am I ever." I groaned in reply, cringing again as I twisted a little too far in the saddle. He gave a small chuckle and led Khalil a little further to the right where there was a large tree sprawling across the ground. We pulled our mounts to a stop and Altaïr immediately dismounted, swinging easily from the saddle as lithely as ever. I, on the other hand, stayed exactly where I was.

In pain. A lot of pain.

Khalil trotted off to feed on some dense green shrubs a little closer to the river bank and Altaïr walked up to Maysaa, gently cupping her muzzle in his hands and stroking it gently as he looked up at me, a smile playing on his lips.

"Does something happen to be the matter?" He asked cheerfully.

"If me being unable to get off my horse is a problem, then yes." I replied glumly.

"It is to be expected, you are an unseasoned rider. I'm sorry you've had to be on a horse for so long."

"Oh no, not at all, I love riding, it's just…painful."

"Indeed, you'll be feeling it in your thigh muscles for weeks." He said, holding up his arms to me.

"No kidding." I sighed, grudgingly allowing him to haul me of my horse and help me down onto solid ground.

We spent the remaining hour of sunlight eating and setting up a fire to stave off the cold as we prepared to camp for the night. We were leaning against one side of the tree while Khalil and Maysaa were fed and settled comfortably on the other side. I watched Altaïr remove a few of his weapons and lay them at his side but retaining his long sword and his gauntlets.

"Oh…Altaïr." I began absentmindedly, his actions reminding me of something I wanted to do. "Would you teach me how to throw your knives?" I was sitting crouched down with me knees resting underneath me, facing Altaïr with his back was against the tree.

He looked at me surprised but his face soon became impassive and for a few moments, he looked as if he was contemplating it.

"I don't think that would be appropriate." He replied finally.

"Why not?" I asked, dismayed.

"I am not one to deny women the right to do as men do but Malik would positively maim me." He replied guiltily, smiling that rather incredible smile.

Oh, so that was how he was going to play it.

"After what has happened in the last few days, I would think it was very appropriate to be able to defend myself." I said prudently, crossing my arms in light of a challenge.

"Indeed." He agreed, "But I still don't think throwing knives would be appropriate…-"

I scowled at him.

"…- because, how often will you be in distant combat? Learning to wield a blade would be far more useful." He finished smoothly, ending the beginnings of my protest with a little knowing smirk.

I took me a few seconds to catch the meaning of what he said but as soon as I'd realised, my eyes lit up and I grinned at him. His face was again impassive with only the smallest hints of a smile but it was reaching his eyes instead and I grinned wider, thanking him profusely.

Tomorrow was going to be a very productive day.

Hopefully I wouldn't stab him...


	12. Chapter 12

** Chapter 12**

_Hello everyone! It's me! And I'm in a bloody good mood because I only have two exams left! YES! TWO! Hooray! So I'm celebrating with an update, sorry it's taken so long. Not only have I been revising but I've been working on different chapters because I've taken to writing out of chronological order, so the story is still strong in my mind! Please enjoy this latest installement and I'd like to say thankyou to everyone who has reviewed because the amount of excitement I get out of seeing someone who has reviewed is almost criminal. And thankyou to everyone who has put this on their alerts list! YOU ALL ROCK!_

_Now! On with the actual story..._

* * *

"Put some effort into it Altaïr! I'm never going to learn if you swish your sword around pathetically like that!" I shouted, raising the weapon in one swift arc and bringing it down as hard as I could, smashing it with arm jarring force into Altaïr's recipient blade, the sound ringing in my ears.

"If I was fighting to my full potential, you'd already be on the floor!" Altaïr goaded, deflecting my hit with an easy move as he side-stepped closer to me.

"Try me!" I replied, narrowly avoiding his blade for the second time, my heart beating a lot faster even though I knew I was in no danger.

Fighting was exhilarating. At first, the thought of getting Altaïr to teach me how to wield a sword was daunting and for the night after he'd proposed sword fighting, I'd deliberated on whether to tell him to forget the whole idea… But I'd decided to go through with it anyway, thinking only of the benefits of learning how to defend myself and from it, discovered that not only did I apparently have a natural affinity for it, but that I also enjoyed it immensely.

For days already, Altaïr had been teaching me how to fight effectively with a sword; how to make full use of your body while fighting and how to strike blows and defend yourself from them at the same time. I'd learned that Altaïr was even more lethal than he appeared at first glance. He fought with such precision, it were as if he were dancing; every step was perfectly manoeuvred and he was almost uncannily graceful in his movements. The sword seemed alive in his hands when he fought and I was again relieved to be on the other end of his blade as a friend and not a foe.

He didn't reply to my comment but instead smirked and suddenly shot out like lightening striking the ground. The movements was so fast that I didn't register it until it was too late; I lunged out haphazardly but he easily avoided it with a mere side twitch of his head before bringing his sword down upon mine, knocking it out easily out of my hands with a smile. I gaped as I tried to take in what had happened in the last second but before I'd fully caught up, Altaïr had yanked my arm around and pulled me sharply into him, bringing his blade over, across my neck and resting it there almost gently as I tried to steady my ragged breathing.

I chuckled weakly where I stood, knowing full well that even _that _hadn't been 'fighting to his full potential.' He laughed quietly in response and craned his head around to whisper in my ear.

"Does that prove it to you?"　

I laughed shakily and I watched from the corner of my eyes as he withdrew his blade and re-sheathed it in one fluid, unbroken movement with one hand, his other still clasping my arms behind my back.

"You fought well again." He said, still not releasing me. My arm was starting to ache slightly.

"That was impressive." I breathed, "But that still wasn't to your full potential!"

"Of course it wasn't." Altaïr laughed, "I want to train you not kill you."

He suddenly released my arms and gave me a swift push forwards. I quickly retrieved my sword and turned around to face him; his sword was already drawn and he was crouched in a fighting stance.

"As for what you did wrong: you panicked and blindly tried to smash your sword down." He explained and I nodded in understanding.

"You need to wait and choose your moment to be effective; otherwise you'll just lose your sword or ultimately, your life."

My lips were set into a grim line and I nodded again once. He suddenly launched at me, giving me no indication of his motives and I swiftly darted sideways in response and pulled up my sword. He stopped again at once and nodded.

"Very good." He said simply. "Avoidance is also key and you performed that manoeuvre very nicely. Sidestepping is safer as jumping back may not always put you out of the swords reach."

We spent the next hour going through avoidance techniques and ways to counter sudden attacks, such as the one that had left me sword less. The day was gradually getting hotter and hotter as the early morning coolness fizzled away and left only burning heat. Both Altaïr and I were breathing heavily and sweating profusely by the time we decided to stop. We returned to the shade of a cluster of trees by the river where Khalil and Maysaa had been waiting most of the morning.

We were near a place called Aenon, a small city opposite the bank of the River Jordan. We'd visited it the previous day to bathe and to sleep a night on something other than hard rock.

According to Altaïr, we were also travelling at the pace of a tortoise with only one leg.

I couldn't be happier.

I had absolutely no intention to travel any faster to Berothai and I attempted to divert us in any way possible. The sword fighting had turned out to be an incredible diversion; we trained every single day and often for the whole day… any days spent not travelling were longer days spent in Altaïr's company.

I collapsed under the tree and Altaïr handed me the skin of water which I gratefully took from him and gulped down, feeling the coolness on my parched throat. I handed it back to him and he sat down next to me, taking a deep drink as well.

"You were excellent today." He commented as he replaced the skin of water in Khalil's saddle bags. I blushed even redder despite my already flushed cheeks.

"It is all down to your wonderful teaching." I mumbled.

"There is that." He winked and I slapped his arm in reproach, laughing to myself. "But seriously," He replied, "You are very good with the blade in your own right. A latent talent one might say."

I beamed with uncontainable pride. It meant a lot coming from him and I also loved to think I was a natural. Who would not? He smiled in response and quickly stood up, explaining how he was going to bathe quickly in the river. I nodded and picked up my sword as he walked away.

It wasn't actually my sword; it was the one that Altaïr usually kept at his hip. He used his shorter, curved sword when practising with me.

He had originally been very reluctant to let me use it, initially saying that he did not want to practise with real swords. I had managed to convince him otherwise and so he allowed me to use this one.

I felt its surprising lightness and turned it around in my hands, feeling its rough leather scabbard and running my fingertips over the embossed metal patterns inlaid on the leather. Altaïr had told me to use this one as it was lighter than the short sword, explaining that the short sword was made out of a different type of metal and that it had to be heavier as it was smaller, and so the long sword would be the better option for a beginner. Also, using the short sword required a different type of skill. The movements were different than when you fought with a shorter, curved sword. I laid it back down by the tree gently and stood up, deciding to take a bath also, as I felt sticky, sweaty and uncomfortable.

I'd taken to bathing everyday now as we were always by the river and so it made for easy access but today, instead of actually taking off my tunic, I decided just to wash as a whole. I quickly stepped into the river and submerged by head, massaging my fingers through my long hair and 

scrubbing my face to remove all the sweat and dirt. I stepped out the moment Altaïr came striding back from further downstream and he laughed as he saw me soaking wet. He apparently had only washed himself.

"Is it not the custom to take your clothes _off _before you bathe?" He smirked as he threw his robes and undershirt over a branch of the tree to dry, still clad in his shalwars. The scar down his side which I had dutifully tended for a little while now had finally healed to just a reddish line. It still hadn't marred the perfectness of his physique though, I could still marvel at the beauty of his chest but unfortunately this time, I think he saw me looking and so I hastily answered his question.

"I thought it would be quicker to do everything at once." I mumbled, casting my eyes away from him and busying myself with trailing a finger over a cut I had sustained early on in the training. He sat down very close to me and I looked up at him out of politeness for I was still embarrassed that he had seen me looking.

"You are allowed to look you know." He whispered out of the corner of his lips, his voice like liquid gold.

His comment caught me by surprise and my head shot up. "Don't be so arrogant!" I laughed.

"Oh, so you deny it then?" He commented slyly.

"No!" I continued, "I mean don't be so arrogant as to think people would want to look! I of course was looking, but don't think it means other people would want to as well!"

He laughed loudly at my poor semblance of a confession and I leant my head on his shoulder, laughing with him as he pulled his arm around from the side and put it around my shoulders, even though I was wet.

We sat like that for a few minutes longer and I closed my heavy eyelids, my body and mind weary from the training. I could feel the light breeze through my hair and I curled my legs up closer into my body as me being wet was making the wind colder in the shade. I opened an eye to look at Altaïr and noticed that he'd actually dozed off. I smiled at how endearing he looked while he was sleeping.

Just as I made to close my eyes again, I caught sight of what I could have sworn was a face behind a large bush in the distance. My heart jumped suddenly in fright as the blurry shape abruptly disappeared once more. The shape didn't reappear but the faster beating of my heart alerted me to the fact that something _had_ been there. A little chill of curiosity got the better of me and I carefully eased away gently from Altaïr's side, jumped up and ran to the bushes, slightly fearing what I might find.

But of course, there was nothing there.

I ran around the bushes once to make extra sure, but there was nothing there at all, not even an animal. I let out a little sigh of relief and walked back to the tree, my fear appeased.

"What on earth are you doing?" Altaïr called when he saw me walking back towards the tree.

"Nothing." I shrugged, "I just thought I saw something."

"What did you see?" He asked, ever cautious.

"I thought I saw a person but it was nothing. Just a trick of the light." I replied as I sat down next to him again and snuggled into his shoulder. He dropped the subject and I leant over to kiss his jaw, cupping the other side of his face with my left hand.

"Somebody is a little greedy today." He commented and I laughed despite myself as he stroked my neck and I shivered a little.

"Do you mind?" I whispered back, kissing his throat.

"Don't ask stupid questions Asra." He replied sensually as he raised my head from his throat and captured my lips in his own. My heart went a bit crazy again through a combination of two things.

One. I feel the word 'Altaïr' encompases it perfectly.

Two. I'd seen that face again.

I shot back in fright, startling Altaïr with my sudden movement and let out a gasp as my eyes stayed transfixed upon the bushes again. Altaïr had recovered fast and grabbed my arm comfortingly, his face knitting together in confusion and concern.

"What's wrong Asra?"

"There IS something in those damn bushes!" I shouted, my heart beating loudly in my chest. His eyes narrowed slightly and he stood up, pulling me up with him.

"Let's go and look." He said firmly, interlocking his fingers with my own and holding them tightly.

He led me to the bushes and the surrounding trees and together we thoroughly scoured the area just behind them, looking in between the bushes and behind rocks. But I was just being a fool.

"Ugh." I groaned, "I'm just seeing things again."

I traipsed back to the tree with Altaïr in tow just as a small band of people on horses trotted past. I narrowed my eyes to protect them from the dust they kicked up as it swirled around the air in the breeze. One of the men – He had dark brown hair that curled beautifully down to his shoulders - upon a pretty bay horse, nodded in thanks at me for waiting and I nodded back out of politeness. Then I resumed my dead pan shuffle back to the tree and mumbled my apologies to Altaïr for being so scared at nothing.

"Don't worry Asra. There _could_ have been something there and it could have been dangerous so it was worth checking." Altaïr replied helpfully, stroking Khalil's unusually white mane while he stood in the shade.

"Meh." I grunted, unimpressed at myself and still feeling slightly jumpy.

"I know what will make you feel better." Altaïr said, moving away from Khalil and coming to stand next to me and Maysaa.

"Hmm?" I replied softly.

"Before we reach Berothai…-" My stomach did an uncomfortable lurch. "-…would you like to visit Damascus for a few days?"

He was right. That _did_ make me feel a lot better.

"Can we really?!" I squeaked, slurring my words together like an excited child, forgetting about the shape behind the bush in an instant.

"Of course. We are in no rush after all." He replied.

"I would like that a lot." I said with slightly more self restraint as I smiled at him gratefully.

"Not at all." He replied graciously before swiftly mounting Khalil and indicating for me to do the same. I stepped into Maysaa's saddle and gave her a good rub behind the ears before Altaïr and Khalil trotted off onto the path in between the tree and those godforsaken bushes across the way.

The sun's rays were diminishing now as clouds criss crossed in front of it, periodically blocking it out and staying away the heat. I trotted along happily with Altaïr as we conversed at length about Damascus. I wanted to know everything about it and it turned out that Altaïr had been there many times before and knew a lot. My recently discovered love for travelling made me eager to hear about cities I'd never been to and so I lapped up the information eagerly. In the distance, I could make out the silhouettes of the little band of travellers who had passed by us before.

They were only walking and so we caught up to them quickly and I could see now that the group consisted of three men –including the man who had thanked me for waiting earlier- and one stunningly beautiful woman. Well, she had beautiful kohl rimmed eyes but I could not see the rest of her face for she was wearing a white scarf around her head, leaving only her eyes on show. I imaged that she must be stunning though.

We veered to the right so that we could pass them and as we did, I smiled kindly at them and was met with a kind nod from the men but nothing but open disdain from the women. It showed in her eyes as plain as if she had been shouting at me. I recoiled slightly, taken aback at her response and kept my eyes on the road as we trotted forwards around them. I cast my eyes surreptitiously back to look at the group once more and the woman's expression was completely different this time. Perhaps I had just imagined her contempt. _It wouldn't be the first time I'd imagined things today, _I grumbled to myself.

"Let's just get to Damascus soon..." I mumbled under my breath as we passed the group and continued trotting onwards, eventually leaving the travellers behind.

"It will take us a fair while Asra." Altair replied.

"How long?" I asked, not even bothering to be surprised that he'd heard me.

"Around a day or two if we run."

"Well let's run then! I want to spend as much time there as possible!"

Altaïr grinned lopsidedly at me and I smiled back as I pressed Maysaa forwards faster, leaving the absurd bush and the unfriendly woman far behind us, thinking only of Damascus ahead.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

"But it's so huge!" I gaped staring at the city in awe, "Even larger than Jerusalem!"

"It _is_ larger than Jerusalem." Altaïr stated matter-of-factly.

Altaïr and I were standing upon the rock face over-looking Damascus, just at the beginning of the winding, rocky path that led down to the gates. I'd never seen a view like it. From here, you could see the whole city, encased in thick stone walls like a nut inside a shell. Huge towers and minarets rose up majestically from the ground like a palm tree curving their way from the soil and every little building was like a small game piece upon a board. Even from here I could see the domed top of mosques, breaking the monotonous linearity with the curvature of their roofs.

I stood there gazing for a while longer, revelling in the beauty of the sight before Altaïr laughed gently and turned Khalil around to face the path, trotting along leisurely while he waited for me to become responsive again. I squeezed Maysaa's girth with my legs and she began to move forwards even though my eyes weren't on the road ahead.

We descended down the path slowly and the view of the city became more and more obscured while the walls because much larger. I could see the huge entrance to the city now and my stomach flipped excitedly. There were merchant's stalls set out before the walls and the familiar shouts rang out as we trotted towards them. Altaïr motioned quietly for us to dismount and led Khalil to an area to the right of the main entrance where there were large bales of hay set out and a tall man sitting cross legged behind them. Altaïr wordlessly dropped a small coin into the man's hands and gave Khalil one last pat before relinquishing his reins to him. I did the same with Maysaa before returning to Altaïr's side, eager to explore.

He strode towards the four guards stationed at the gate, his features suddenly and inexplicably set into hard lines, as if he expected them to not allow him through. I shot him a brief, quizzical look as the guards nodded their heads simultaneously and parted to allow us through as I bounced excitedly in between them into the city. Altaïr followed behind me along with a group of women carrying pots on their hips and their heads, careful not to knock into them as he walked in between them.

I could never live in the wilderness; too empty and too boring. In the city, everything was going on and the bustling nature of a city made you feel part of it. Damascus was no different. The people were too numerous to count as they walked by and I felt my excitement increasing tenfold as I stepped out from the shadows of the small tunnel through the thick city walls and into the bustling market stalls. The buildings here at the main gate looked a bit worn out but Altaïr told me that this was the poorer part of Damascus and that things improved as you moved around. I didn't openly say it but it was here that I felt more at home. Back in Jerusalem, I'd lived in the poorer part too, where people looked down on you with pity, and relief that their life wasn't the same.

I felt a familiar small twist of anger as I watched an elegantly dressed man sidestep his way past a little ragged old lady with a look akin to revulsion on his face. I shook my head in resignation. It seemed that even Damascus couldn't avoid pompous twits among its people.

I smiled broadly at the old woman as we passed by her to try and make up for the man's rudeness and she smiled toothlessly back at me as she shuffled down the dusty streets among hundreds of others as Altaïr darted in between the people with me directly behind him, trying hard not to knock into anyone. We jumped through a break in the crowd and continued down the wide main street through the poor district. This part of the street was quieter and we walked down it leisurely as the pungent, delicious smells of food wafted in the air. I felt my stomach gurgle hungrily and even amidst the noises of the city, Altaïr heard it too.

"I think it would be best if we wait to buy food from the wealthier district. From personal experience the food around here can be dangerous." He said as we continued walking down the street.

"What happened?" I enquired.

"Bad meat… I was ill for days." He replied, looking slightly green around the edges even remembering it.

"I understand." I laughed, "I'll just have to wait."

We continued walking down the street with no particular destination in mind; perusing the stalls for nothing in particular and simply enjoying having nothing to do. Altaïr had been here many times but he courteously satisfied my every whim without so much as a sigh. I was grateful for his patience.

Gradually, the narrower streets of the poor district widened and the people became more elaborately dressed; the merchant stalls selling rich bolts of silks and brocades reflected the change in circumstances for the citizens. This was the richer district and the large white washed houses with their terraces and rooftop gardens were testament to this. A huge minaret dominated the skyline but the beauty of it was eclipsed by a mosque that suddenly came into view. Its huge golden roof made all the expensive, elaborate buildings around it pale in comparison. But the roof was only part of it; the structure as a whole was gigantic, four thick stone walls encasing an expansive courtyard. I wished I could have a proper look inside but the courtyard was not available for public viewing. Guards stood imposingly at each entrance to reinforce this idea.

My stomach suddenly grumbled loudly again and Altaïr smiled before making his way to the closest food stall. I'd never seen such a spread at a simple merchants stall. There was meat roasting on a stick with a little fire licking and flicking underneath with vast metal bowls of yellow rice sitting on the side along with fruit and vegetables. Altaïr requested two meat skewers and two bowls of rice and I waited hungrily on as his order was dished into bowls. He paid the man and woman behind the counter before striding to the nearest bench. He handed me the bow and I began to eat as slowly as my willpower allowed; only just resisting the urge to shovel it into my mouth.

"It's amazing here." I commented absentmindedly.

"Indeed. Damascus is a lovely place… almost untouched by the Crusade." He replied. He finished eating before me and I watched him surreptitiously from beneath my lashes as his eyes followed a group of guards who were marching closely past us. His expression was full of reproach and caution and it confused me. He did it twice more - almost as if he couldn't help it - as more Saracen guards strolled past, their swords at their hip and chattering amongst themselves.

I dismissed it as nothing more than a nervous habit of some sort, not that Altaïr seemed like the 'nervous' type; completely the opposite in fact. However, it was the best explanation for his odd behaviour that I had come up with so far.

"Thank you for the food Altaïr!" I piped up, standing up and shaking off a solitary rice grain that had landed on my skirt. He inclined his head with a smile as a gesture of 'you're welcome' and made his way down a different street, one that flowed directly passed the entrance to the spectacular mosque, which I'd now been told was the famous Omayyad Mosque, one that even I'd heard of. The streets were still astoundingly busy but I liked this sort of hustle and bustle and side stepped it easily with experience gleaned from years of living somewhere that was almost as hectic.

I could feel the sun burning my head and my dark hair was boiling to the touch so I pulled my shawl from my neck – it was too hot to have it there anyway – and wrapped it around my head to shade it. I should have probably put it on earlier; it wasn't seemly to have your head uncovered.

His eyes again flickered to a small battalion of guards – around six or seven of them – as they crossed our paths, his eyes boring holes into their backs once they had passed us and traversed across the street down a flight of stone steps into a roofed area crammed with stalls.

I frowned. He was making me anxious with all his side glances and stolen looks, like he was a fugitive on the run. I dismissed it again as one of his quirks and threw one side of the shawl over my shoulder to keep it out of the way.

"So where would you like to go?" I asked him.

"Surely I should be asking you that?" He replied, smiling.

"Well yes, but I have no idea where we are of where anything is here, so you are going to have to tell me."

"True." He relinquished. "I say we go to the souk."

Before I even had time to ask where it was, he veered off the straight road and down the steps that the soldiers he'd been watching had gone down before, into the shadows of an incredible roofed area. It was almost triangular with wooden rafters across its width and small windows at the top but no doors of course; it was simply a roof. There were souk's like this in Jerusalem and I'm sure they had been just as wonderful however, this one seemed so much better. It had a sort of ethereal red glow that looked almost out of place during the day time due to the odd reflection of heaps of red drapery hung around the stalls.

From the place we'd entered into, it looked like the souk stretched for miles, you couldn't actually see the end; just row upon row of merchant stalls selling fabrics and clothes and fruits and nuts, among other things. We went with the forwards flow of the rest of the people and made our way down the whole length of the main section until it veered sharply off at a right angle, where we began battling are way in the opposite direction of everyone else.

"Hold on to anything you don't want stolen." Altaïr whispered from the corner of his mouth.

"I don't actually have anything on my person." I replied, my eyes roving the stalls as we strolled by.

"Just as well because if you did, you wouldn't have it for long…"

"Is it that bad?" I asked.

"It can be." He replied, "Some idiot even tried to steal from me once."

"An idiot indeed, I would most certainly not try to steal from someone who has swords strapped to his back."I mused quietly.

"My point exactly." He replied, his voice loud enough that I could hear it over the rumble of sounds in the background.

I smiled at him before my thoughts wandered lazily back to unimportant things. I couldn't help thinking how amazingly different everyone was. Everyone who walked past was completely different from the last. Their height, their eyes, their hair. On a general scale, that of course, is obvious. Everyone _is_ different but until you see so many people in one place, you don't fully appreciate the diversity. From the withered faces of elderly people; their skin hanging in almost gentle folds from the bones on their face to the young children who ran around your feet, their skin smooth and soft and supple. My eyes roved people's faces as they rushed by and I took in each one before I discarded it again at the back of my mind the moment another came along. All of a sudden, one face stopped me in my tracks.

A breathtakingly beautiful woman was standing near a stall just in front of us. Her head was partly uncovered; enough so that tendrils of her dark mahogany hair curled softly down her cheeks and spilled out onto her shoulders. Her wide cheekbones swept upwards on her face and gave her a look of elegance and poise, with full lips gently curved into a dazzling smile.

Men could not help gawking as they walked past, their eyes almost popping out of their sockets as they laid their eyes upon her almost flawless visage. I stifled a small laugh as one women struck out her hand and cuffed her husband (Or so I assume it was her husband) around the ear, offended that he appeared to be mentally undressing this woman in his mind. Even the women were staring at her, as I was. It was hard not to. All of us were probably thinking how on earth such a creature landed on this earth. I suppose there was a bit of jealously there too, that was almost certainly unavoidable.

She appeared to take in none of this admiration, or if she did, she kept it well hidden and simply continued to admire objects on merchant's counters. Her eyes were framed by a thick fringe of dark eyelashes that almost cast shadows on her face when she lowered them…

I shook my head and smiled, I was sounding like her star-crossed lover. I turned my eyes, looking at the apparent black hole before me and just walked on; trying to pretend I'd never been looking at her, or maybe even _Altaïr _would even get jealous… I almost burst out laughing at that notion. I would have to be extremely precious to him if he would get jealous about me admiring a _woman_. My grin faltered slightly; I probably wasn't that important to him. I needed to prepare myself for such an eventuality; we would arrive in Berothai, he'd say goodbye; I'd say thank you; then he would leave.

_Wonderful_, I grimaced. I'd succeeded in making myself miserable in the space of a second.

Altaïr seemed completely oblivious to the stunning creature we were about to pass, however, the stunning creature did not seem completely oblivious to him. Her eyes flicked up briefly and regarded him with what looked like both caution and triumph; a strange combination. Before I could even attempt to avoid her gaze, her eyes flashed back down as if she was trying to hide that she'd ever removed her gaze from the items in front of her.

Although by that time, I'd stopped paying attention. I was more than a bit happy that Altaïr hadn't been ogling her like all the other men, and women for that matter. _However, if he had been, I wouldn't have blamed him_, I smiled to myself. She was soon forgotten as we walked past, still dodging the people who moved in the opposite direction like a torrent of flood water.

* * *

By the end of the day, we'd managed to purchase one new shawl, two small sacks of rice and a new skin to hold water in, in case the other one failed on us. The day had gone ridiculously fast and we hadn't really achieved anything useful, however I had enjoyed myself immensely. The souk gradually began to calm down, like a gargantuan beast settling down for a rest. The light dimmed and the Merchants began to pack up their wares. The people began to mill around more slowly and more and more slipped out the entrances to walk home as the minutes ticked on.

By now, my feet were ready to drop off and my thighs were still burning from too much riding. A combination of that, hunger and a lot of sword practise had made me exhausted. I must have been dragging my feet too obviously for Altaïr began to notice. Well, of course he would, nothing seems to be able to be hidden from him. _He reads people like books_, I though dully.

"Do you wish to retire now? We can find an inn close by." He said.

"That would be preferable." I replied wearily.

"What would be?"

"The 'close by' bit." I smiled back; trying to inject some energy into myself with humour, considering Altaïr looked no worse for wear and I didn't want to look bad.

He smiled at me good naturedly. "Follow me then." He replied, as he cut quickly through the dwindling crowd and out through another of the large entrances that led from all directions into the souk. I followed as swiftly as I could behind him and suddenly, we were out in the open again. I think I'd almost forgotten what they sky looked like. It was an inky blue and the moon was already becoming steadily opaque as the sun relinquished its hold on the sky for another day.

In no more than a few minutes we were outside a large white washed building with exotic flowers potted outside the entrance and a thick oak door between us and the inside. Altaïr knocked twice on the door and waited. A second later, the door was yanked open from the inside and a short, balding man appeared. He was dressed in sumptuous robes and a strange embroidered design on the lower corner of his clothes caught my eye; it looked a bit like the head of an arrow but with a tear drop shape cut out from the middle and angular edges flicking out before tapering back in with the curved lines of the tear dropped shape almost touching with a curved line underneath.

The innkeeper took one look at Altaïr and inclined his head imperceptibly before bursting out in what seemed like a rehearsed – or at least frequently repeated – greeting.

"Welcome my guests! Welcome to my humble inn. How may I be of service to you?"

"Two rooms please." I said, before Altaïr had a chance to speak. I wanted separate rooms this time to prove I wasn't really scared, unlike last time. And also, sharing a room as an unmarried woman didn't look very good on my part. Not that anyone else knew I wasn't married to Altaïr.

"Of course my lady." The man replied as he swept into a low, theatrical bow. He ushered us in and closed the door behind us before bustling back to his long wooden desk and pulling out a feather quill. The main entrance was warm and inviting with the gentle flicker of candles making me feel calm and even more exhausted simultaneously.

I watched with fatigued curiosity as the inn-keepers eyes momentarily caught Altaïr's and an imperceptible flicker of acknowledgement passed between them before his head bobbed down again and continued on writing in his book on the desk. I ignored it as nothing important and continued my daydream of curling up on the floor at this very moment and falling asleep in the middle of the hall.

The man drew himself up to his full but insignificant height – well, compared to Altaïr – and closed the book in front of him with a smile. He hadn't asked us our names or any details but still pulled out two wrought iron keys from under the desk. He hurried around the desk and indicated politely to the staircase. I dragged my feet from underneath me and slumped up the stairs as fast as I could, followed by Altaïr and then the inn-keeper. I could hear that we were not the only ones in the inn at this time; the scuffle of footsteps and hushed voices could be heard over the thud of our footsteps.

"Here are your rooms. My lord-", he pointed to the door in front of him, "my lady." He inclined his head to the door at the end of the corridor. "I hope you find them satisfactory."

"Thank you." Altaïr said quietly as he took the keys from the man's outstretched hands and handed me one. We both nodded to him politely as he padded softly back down the stairs. When he had gone, Altaïr turned to me and said, "Make sure you get some rest, you look exhausted."

"I will, don't worry." I replied in hushed tones so as not to wake anyone else who may be asleep.

"I'll be just here if you need me and I'll come for you in the morning."

"Thank you."

"And please don't do anything dangerous, I'm meant to be protecting you. And I've already failed enough in that respect." The corners of his lips were turned up in a half smile which assured me that he wasn't actually feeling seriously guilty.

I stifled a laugh and nodded at him, "What exactly could I do within the confined of an inn room? Besides, there is nothing else I want to do more now, than sleep."

"I'm glad to hear it. Good night." He whispered.

"'Night." I replied through a yawn. I dragged my feet quietly down the short corridor, fitted the key in the lock and turned it to the right with a _clunk_. I pushed the door open and was pleasantly surprised to find an expensively furnished room with a bed in the centre ahead of me and a table with a vase of lilies on top and a large, ornate, wooden wardrobe to the side. There was a set of double doors to the right with panels of glass set into them to serve as windows. But I ignored any other features and thought only of the comfortable looking bed in front of me. I turned around again and bade Altaïr good night once more before closing the door behind me with a quiet _thunk._

I staggered to the bed and sat down, pulled of my flimsy shoes and shawl and crawled under the plush quilt and fell easily and quickly into a contented sleep.

* * *

She had no idea why she was making such an effort to get to Altaïr. Maybe it was because he was as handsome as ever and she desired him; like she had before when she was younger and wanted to see if he would once again reciprocate those feelings. Surely she was tempting fate by trying to find him again, after he had tried to kill her once before? Maybe it was the presence of this girl that irked her so. Yes. That was it.

Who was she? Why was she with him? It had been the inexplicable jealousy that had caused her to seek them both out and the same jealousy that now served as an explanation for why she was outside the girl's balcony and looking through her window. She was only on the first floor and the trellis had been laughably easy to climb. She felt foolish spying like this but she couldn't help herself. This girl annoyed her and it had been that way from the moment she saw her.

She peered through the window, unsurprised that she couldn't see hardly anything; only the vague form of the bed and the rising of the covers as the girl's gentle breathing disturbed their form.

She gave a short laugh and shook her head; what was she doing creeping around some wench's balcony? It would do her no good. She climbed silently back down, dropped as lightly as a cat back onto the ground and dissolved back into the darkness.

* * *

_Hey guys! It's me :D Hope you enjoyed this chapter and I would like to take this opportunity to say a big thankyou to everyone who's read my story! I've had over 11,000 hits now! (To be precise: As of 1 minute past midnight on 18th July it is drumroll please 11918! Hooray! Big huggles to all!_

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	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

I woke up suddenly to the sunlight streaming through the windows, throwing facets of light on the wooden floor as the sun rose gently over the horizon. I sat up in my bed and shielded my eyes; the light was dazzling.

I was feeling intensely uneasy. I'd had the dream with Altaïr in it again; the first time in weeks. I could still feel the sweat on my forehead and my heart beating quicker in my chest. It felt like an unnerving foreshadowing for the day and I contemplated crawling back under the covers and staying there until the sun disappeared again, just to avoid any mishap the day could bring.

I could still feel the burning trail of the feather on my face. Why on earth was there even a feather in the first place? I thought I'd had a glimmer of recognition before but the more I thought about it, the less I realised I understood. None of my dream made any sense. I heaved a sigh and pushed aside the covers, dropping my legs over the side. I was too put out for sleep, even though it was horrifically early and I was still tired; I decided to check on Altaïr instead.

It was strange that the only person who could offer me comfort was the one who scared me in the first place.

I padded softly across the room and pushed the handle down slowly and precisely so that it wouldn't creak and crept across to Altaïr's room, doing the same with his door handle.

I poked my head around his door and felt more at ease as I watched him lying there peacefully, obviously not the sadistic menace I saw in my dream. I still couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling though. I wasn't looking forward to the coming day.

Altaïr's eyes suddenly opened and his deep brown eyes flashed with concern as he saw me standing there before he immediately jumped out of bed, faster than I'd ever seen anyone do.

"Are you alright?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I just wanted to check on you."

"I don't need checking on Asra." He reprimanded coolly.

"I know but…doesn't matter."

He frowned at me.

"You look uneasy Asra. You had a nightmare again didn't you?"

"No, I'm fine. Well yes, I did, but I'm okay." I smiled and hoped that I looked sincere. "Sorry for waking you."

I dipped my head back around the door and was about to close it until his hand struck out and grabbed it and I heard: "No point in leaving now, join me."

I could already feel my heart rate increasing exponentially and fought to control my breathing before I walked the short distance to his bed. He pulled the cover across for me to climb in and then he climbed in beside me. I felt better there, much better. The dream faded to a nagging memory and the uneasy foreboding became more of a throbbing undercurrent. I snuggled up against his side, resting my hand on his broad chest as he stroked my head. His whole imposing form surrounded me and I felt safer as I instantly fell back to sleep.

* * *

Three hours later and despite how safe I actually was... I felt no better. I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I couldn't shake; no matter how many times Altaïr reassured me that there was nothing to worry about.

"For the fourth time, I won't let anything happen to you." Altaïr sighed, exasperated quite thoroughly by this point.

When I didn't speak, only brooded, he continued.

"Malik would completely maim me anyway. I'd rather cooperatively deny myself children than allow him to do anything that would physically - and permanently - deny me of such a luxury." He smiled grimly.

I stifled a chuckle and crossed my legs, positioning myself directly opposite Altaïr on the bed as he tried to explain to me all the possible ways that the day could actually just be normal.

"…but if you really still don't believe me, we could always just stay inside this inn."

"No, don't be silly! I'm not that pathetic, and I trust you more than that." I smiled.

"I am glad to hear it. So, what is it to be?"

"We're going out of course!" I said with a bit more enthusiasm and confidence then I felt. "And I wouldn't mind visiting the baths." I mumbled as an afterthought.

"Good idea."

* * *

By the time I was submerged to my shoulders in water and having my head massaged by one of the bath girls with fragrant oils, my worries were nothing more than a silly notion of the early morning. I was completely relaxed and the rhythmic strokes of the girl's expert hands had an immensely calming, therapeutic effect.

The girl left with a bow after a few minutes and I sank down to marvel at the quality of the bath house that Altaïr had managed to get us into. I had a huge room to myself built from a beautiful, light stone along with green tiles that had the shimmering quality of polished emeralds. The bath itself was surrounded by connecting columns arranged in a circle with arched supports all the way up to the high ceiling and was sunken into the floor with enough room to actually complete a full stroke to reach the other side. The centre was deeper than the rest of the pool; I could only just keep my head above the water by standing on the tips of my toes, however the sides jutted out at right angles to form seats and so I could simply sit back and calm down in the luxuriously hot water.

After a further half an hour, with the constant massaging of my thighs to try and release the tension caused by riding, I was ready – but unwilling – to extract myself. I called embarrassedly for the bath servant and I'm sure I kept the apologetic, nervous look slapped on my face for the whole time that I came into contact with her. I was not used to people doing my bidding and I didn't like it all that much.

She brought with her a thick towelling robe and held it out for me as I stepped out the bath; both shielding me in my nakedness and keeping me warm. I thanked her profusely before she led me out of the bathing room, my feet slapping quietly over the floor as I dripped everywhere and to something that resembled a dressing room, before asking me to sit down as she pulled a brush out of a nearby drawer.

"You have such beautiful hair, my lady. If you don't mind me saying so..." The young girl commented meekly as she gently pulled the brush through my soaking mass of curls.

"Thank you…?" I paused and trailed of, realising that I didn't know her name.

"Johara." She replied with wide eyes. It struck me that no-one must have ever cared enough to ask her.

"Thank you Johara." I finished, smiling. "Do you think you can do anything to improve it though?" I asked kindly, trying to draw her into conversation.

"But of course my lady." She replied, a note of brightness in her voice, "Why, 'tis my speciality. I am very good at dealing with hair. I can do many styles." She said proudly.

"Well, 'tis a very good thing that you can, for I am hopeless!" I teased, "Please feel free to do whatever you think is best for it."

Johara's eyes took on a purpose full gleam as she ran ideas through her head, no doubt trying to find a style that would suit all sorts of extremely useless yet highly prized features on one's face; such as your face shape and cheekbones, the curve of your lips and your ears. All exceptionally pointless really.

I cringed as she pulled my hair back firmly and began twisting it around on top of my head, as if performing some complicated dance. After a few more minutes of scalp-torturing tugging, Johara stood back to observe her handiwork; her tongue stuck between her lips with a thoughtful expression before she finally shook her head and began untwisting all that she'd done.

I'd thought it had looked quite good.

Obviously not.

A few minutes later, my hair was tied neatly into six plaits, which were in-turn plaited together before being draped over one shoulder. My hair was shorter at the front and irritating bits of it managed to escape all over the place, but apart from that, I thought I looked nice. And it was practical too. Johara seemed happy as well.

"What do you think, my lady?" She enquired as she plucked a hand mirror out from the front of her apron and held it behind my head to show me the back of my hair.

"I think its beautiful Johara!" I beamed, "You've made me look halfway decent."

"You had more than enough beauty before my lady, I've only enhanced it." She replied courteously.

"You are very kind to say so." I said as I stood up, still clutching the bath robe to my front.

Johara smiled modestly but quickly resumed her quiet servitude as she hurried off to collect my clothes with a small bow. I was told they had been thoroughly washed and I could almost smell the cleanliness as Johara rushed back in with my whole outfit bundled in her arms. She held out my loose shalwars to me and I hurriedly shoved my legs into them with all the elegance of a bound mule before slipping my feet into my slippers. I really need to buy some new clothes because as much as I loved my green tunic ensemble, wearing it every single day just wasn't nice. Although it looked, smelt and felt wonderful at the moment, I knew that wasn't going to last for long.

Johara had picked up a small bottle of perfume from the dressing table and sort of attacked me with it as I walked out the door to meet Altaïr. But I didn't mind, I was just grateful to be clean; it was the first time I had felt properly fresh from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet for weeks and it felt good.

Altaïr was sitting on a bench in the foyer of the bath house looking thoroughly bored and when he saw me, he gave a sigh of relief.

"Dear god woman! How long does it take?" He rolled his eyes exasperatedly, striding towards me.

"It was worth it. I am exceedingly clean."

"As am I yet it didn't take me that long." He replied. His robes were almost pristine white again and his face was as smooth as the day he came into the world.

"I would have preferred you covered in mud if I knew that's how long it would take you." He continued.

"Sure, sure." I replied, disregarding his comment with a blasé wave of my hand. He simply chuckled before striding out of the door with a single nod at the bath house manager. I was about to follow him before I quickly remembered something.

"Altaïr," I started, "Would you be disinclined to comply if I asked you for a gold piece to give to a servant girl?"

"Not at all," He replied, his hand already clutching the little leather bag with the red cord. "Need I remind you again that it is your money." He threw it at me sharply and I caught it close to my chest. I smiled my thanks and quickly walked back through into the dressing room I'd been using.

Johara was busy washing the floor where I'd splashed all over the place but looked up as I walked in. She jumped up so fast that she almost slipped on the tiles.

"Here Johara," I said, holding out one of the gold coins in my right hand. "For excellent services rendered."

I added the last bit in the hopes that she wouldn't think I was trying to give her charity.

Her eyes near popped out of her skull. "But miss! I cannot take that! I only tied up your hair. 'Twas very simple, honest!" She implored, with a tone that made it seems as if I was asking her to do something illegal.

"Does not matter what you did, only that you did it." I smiled at her. I forcefully placed it in her small palm. "It was a pleasure meeting you Johara." I turned to walk out the door amidst fevered calls of: "Oh thank you so much my lady!" I smiled despite myself and went to join Altaïr as we walked back into the dusty streets of Damascus.

* * *

I was unnerved now. Again. The uneasy feeling apparently hadn't been quelled so easily by a warm bath and sweet smelling oils. It had reared its ugly head early afternoon; the feeling curling in tendrils through my body from the pit of stomach, constricting me as it slithered unpleasantly. If Altaïr looked at a guard like that one more time, I wasn't sure whether I'd be able to control my stomach. The way he stared at them with unspoken caution, as if he was waiting for their attack, scared me. The intensity of his stare had brought me jarring back from my perfumed haze of the late morning bathing excursion.

He never looked scared of them, only cautious; his hazel eyes would harden imperceptibly and his whole body would tense. I could almost see his arm hover over his sword.

The whole of Damascus even seemed attuned to my emotions; the sun had swiftly been enveloped by dark grey clouds and it even looked like they were threatening rain. That was most unusual. And, if I actually believed in omens, it would be a horrible one. Even the people seemed more sullen today; the palm trees more droopy and the merchants less vigorous...Was I uneasy because Damascus was uneasy? Or was Damascus uneasy because I was?

'_Or perhaps_,' a little voice inside of me said, '_there's a third option and it is that_ _you're just being stupid and conjuring up things that aren't really there. Not to mention being horrible conceited! Damascus 'unhappy' because you are?! Pah. Come on._'

I mentally shook myself. That little part of me was right, I was being ridiculous. '_Get a hold of yourself woman!_' I shouted. And with that, I stood up a little straighter and did my best to shake off the bad feelings.

During this angry mental conversation with myself, Altaïr had spied a rather large group of guards. There were around six of them talking and joking amongst themselves, their arms left dangling at their sides bar one, who was standing at the back slightly apart from the others, looking tense and haughty. His palm was clasped over the hilt of his sword and his expression of disdain showed that he felt his comrades should not be so relaxed, even if there was no longer a war going on.

As the group drew closer to us, I bored my eyes into Altaïr, trying to distract his with mind power. When that didn't work, I resorted to an all out physical distraction. In hindsight, it was incredibly childish but as with many things, it seems like the right thing to do at the time.

"Look!" I cried and grasped his right hand, yanking him towards my side. He was caught unawares and unfortunately, I caused both him and I to knock into the haughty guard who was left behind. I gasped in surprise and was about to apologise until I saw their eyes meet and it made the breath catch in my throat…

_

* * *

__Hey guys! Suprisingly enough, its me :D _

_I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please review! You know you want to! And each reviewer gets a virtual cookie!_

_- minnie_


	15. Chapter 15

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Chapter 15

* * *

I watched in horror as their eyes flitted to each other, a frisson of recognition seemingly shooting through the guards face until his expression changed dramatically and raced through a number of emotions; first there was annoyance, followed by vague and fuzzy recollection before the full force of his realisation dawned on his face. The guards face suddenly contorted in hatred and I expected him to spit the word 'Altaïr' before ranting at him, for his face showed no sign of friendship. But the word that flew out of his mouth was neither expected nor greeted with due preparation on my part.

"ASSASSIN!"

Everything in my body stopped for that next moment. My stomach fell violently with crippling force and I felt the blood drain from my face. I shot around to stare at Altaïr, praying that he would say something to clear this mix up and placate this guard who had got everything so wrong. I implored Altaïr to put him right.

But he didn't.

Altaïr's movements confirmed my every fear. He reacted the instant that the word had escaped the guard's lips, clamping his hand down on my wrist and hurling me forward, giving me momentum and hissing at me to run. I tripped as he pushed me and my mind raced ahead. I was numb from shock and everything was in the wrong order; my mind tripped over itself the same way my feet did. The Uneasiness reared again from my stomach as if to gloat that it had been justified.

The group of guards had heard the commander shout and reacted as quickly as their cumbersome equipment would allow them, drawing their swords and raising them menacingly beside their bodies, ready for the fight that I knew would come. I looked back at Altaïr and saw that his beautiful brown eyes were hard. He threw his head towards me and subjected me to the full force of those still smouldering eyes.

"RUN!" He roared, brutally snapping me out of my dazed trance as my brain tried to catch up to my feet. I flitted with surprising sure footedness down the street, my eyes taking in all I could with my brain so blurred.

I saw a merchants stall and dived suddenly behind it, for I would be damned if I was going to leave and flee now. I held my back to the wall, breathing heavily. All the while, I could hear the gasps and screams of civilians and the brutal clashes of metal upon metal. Then suddenly, the metallic noises stopped and there was a sharp exhalation of breath as a guard had the wind knocked out of him. I couldn't see but I could picture it perfectly. Unless it was Altaïr and he was being beaten…

I was shocked at the emotions that coursed through me then. There was no doubt in my mind that Altaïr was – and I couldn't even bring myself to say the word… – an _Assassin_ for everything slotted into place like a warped jigsaw and there are times when you cannot ignore the gut feeling. What did the recurring dream mean if not this? The whole thing made more sense now; the dream was simply preparing me for knowledge that was to come. How these dreams had come, I did not know but they had and with this knowledge, I should have been horrified and disgusted, vowing never to speak to Altaïr again and fleeing from his sight. But the thought of him being attacked and beaten sent terror through me; terror for him and an insatiable desire to protect him. I knew that what Altaïr did or was didn't matter to me because I loved him. And the very thought made me sigh and tut exasperatedly at myself; never again would I laugh in the face of overindulgent romance novels. They were all too often true. Love was truly incapacitating; forcing you to take leave of your senses, and in this case, possibly your morals. My mind felt clearer at the thought, admitting it to myself was a huge step.

This epiphany had taken place in only a second and the sound of the groan still filled the air. I threw my head around the corner and peered over the merchants stall to find to my horror that the white clad form of Altaïr was no longer present, only the irate scrabbles of the guards as they ran to the side of the building, and the one guard incapacitated on the floor, sword hanging uselessly at his side as he gasped for air. I frantically searched around as pandemonium truly started to break loose in the area. Men and women ran along the streets shouting for help from other guards and I noticed that they readily obliged. My heart sank as another ten guards raced in from the streets, swords drawn and shouting at the top of their voices.

I searched desperately for any sign of him and listened to the frenzied shouts of, 'HE'S UP THERE!'

I looked up just in time to see Altaïr launch himself over the gap between the two buildings I was standing below, his legs wide as he cut cleanly through the air and landed on the other building easily, sprinting forward the instant his feet touched the roof of the opposite building. I gawped stupidly at the space above my head, utterly stupefied as I tried to make sense of what I'd just seen. Suddenly, a mottled figure came crashing down into the space before me, landing with a loud crash onto a bench. I recognised it as the shape of a guard, trying to emulate Altaïr and failing dismally. It would have been comical, had his leg not been twisted at an odd angle and his groans of pain not been so loud. Still, for some reason, I found this situation laughable: Altaïr running away, being chased by twenty or so angry men; guards crashing into each other and people falling over themselves. But I shrugged it off as the aftermath of emotional shock. Nothing about this was actually too hilarious; except for the fact that another guard just came crashing down next to the other, landing flat on his face in the dust.

I jumped over the guards lying in a heap on the floor and climbed nimbly up a ladder fixed to the side of the building. I was so far impressed at how capable I was being, normally, my clumsiness was opportunistic and came at a time when I didn't need it. Another guard ran ahead of me, paying me no heed as he followed in the wake of a large number of armour clad men, all in pursuit of Altaïr as he agilely ran over the rooftops with his robes flapping behind him like wings in flight. The guards were a lot less adroit as they ran but nevertheless, what they lacked in physical prowess, they made up for in sheer number. From the shouts below, I could tell that a large number of guards were following the progress from down below, running in the streets to try and head Altaïr off.

I took a deep breath and sprinting after the guards and Altaïr as fast as I could. The rooftops were uneven and I stumbled more often than I stayed upright but I kept them all easily in my sight. Well, I could hardly miss them; I thought grimly, they were swarming in like bees. But even in all the frenzy, I still managed to take time out to realise how breathtakingly beautiful the city was from up here.

I could see Altaïr in the distance and the guards leading the chase were almost as acrobatically skilled as he was, leaping over racks of clothes drying in the sun and avoiding hindrances in their paths competently. I wanted to avoid the swarm of guards as much as possible and so I stopped and carefully made my way down to a rooftop just beneath the one I was standing on. I was now out of sight of the guards above but they were still in _my_ sight. I ran parallel to the guards, the blood thundering in my ear as my body objected to the sheer speed at which I forced myself to run. I suddenly stumbled in my haste and fell over a loose brick on the flat roof, spinning over on the ground and selecting a few choice curse words as the skin scraped off my forearm and ripped the length of my sleeve with it. My knees were bruised and the skin on my right forearm had been stripped clean off, exposing the tender flesh beneath and bleeding thickly. I expected the pain to come and braced myself for it but it was surprisingly painless, most likely due to the sheer amount of adrenalin propelling itself through my body. I jumped up quickly, determined not to lose ground.

I ran for another minute, keeping the hoarse roars of the guards in earshot and listening out for any nearby screams of the people below, intending to use it as an indicator in case Altaïr threw himself of the rooftops and down into the streets below.

I spied another ladder and jumped up it hurriedly, ascending back onto the rooftops where the guards ran. Almost as if Altaïr had read my mind, the screams from down below sounded loudly as he took off from the rooftop and jumped into the busy streets beneath, causing a ruckus as he knocked into the men and women. I watched him roll as he landed before taking off as swiftly as he'd arrived. The guards reacted promptly: throwing themselves down a ladder amidst cries of, 'INFIDEL!'. This seemed to send the crowd into an even greater frenzy as they realised what had just landed in their midst's. They ran about, sidestepping into buildings to try and avoid the crush of guards that suddenly tackled them out the way.

* * *

Well, at least she knew he was still in the same city. She jumped back with the rest of the crowd as Altaïr came hurtling up the street, smirking at the seemingly endless line of guards who followed in hot pursuit. He was always one for trouble. The amount of times he'd been punished for sneaking out to visit her or for dunking his fellow novices head in the horse trough, was innumerable. She weaved in between the screaming crowd, listening with amusement at the distant cries as she wrapped the scarf back around her face with a smile. They would never catch him.

* * *

I jumped quickly off the low rooftop and down onto the overhanging door post of a house, before clambering down onto the street, blending perfectly with the crowds as I ran, looking like no more than a fearful citizen. The guards had conveniently cleared a large opening and I followed in their wake, meeting no resistance as the citizens readily removed themselves from our path.

I was tiring fast but not as fast as I'd thought I would do. The guards on the other hand, fuelled by their desire to have Altaïr in their hands, were as fit as ever, running as if they'd only just started. The number of guards had increased to around twenty in hot pursuit and around another ten that I had counted lying in wait to see if Altaïr ran towards them. To my dismay, I noticed that the tops of buildings were filling up with more guards, their arms raised with taut bows and a single sharp, glistening arrow ready to be released from each of them. There were at least ten that I could spy in the immediate rooftops. That brought the guard count up to around forty. I couldn't help but think grimly as to what had made Altaïr such a desirable detainee… The thought made me shudder and squirm a bit inside. I tried not to think about it, especially because all concentration was required _not_ to smash into things and to keep filling my lungs with air.

I saw Altaïr suddenly dive up a wall easily, gripping on effortlessly and levering himself up before jumping onto the side of an enormous tower, his fingers gripping tightly onto pieces of the brick that extended outwards. I stopped to catch my breath, panting heavily but watching in awe as Altaïr made his way upwards, much to the collective horror of the opposing force. One guard – I assumed he must be their commander – screeched to the Archers to take over from the force that could no longer reach him on the ground.

They reacted without delay, drawing their bows and pointing their arrows up to where Altaïr was fast losing them, effortlessly grasping the inlets and footholds that the vast tower presented him with. This was something new that I hadn't seen from Altaïr before. I knew he was physically talented and extremely acrobatic and agile but him actually being able to scale walls like a bloody spider was something that took me by complete surprise. I felt like whooping with joy that he was eluding them so easily until the first wave of arrows rained down upon him in great numbers. The shout of joy quickly morphed into a cry of shock as Altaïr saw them coming and released an arm to avoid an arrow embedding itself in the flesh of his right arm. He looked so precarious dangling there…

I ran onwards to get closer but careful to make sure he was always in my sight. Not that that was hard now with him up in the air above us. I heaved a sigh of relief as the first wave of arrows missed him and he continued to climb up higher and higher, never appearing to tire. He carefully shimmied around the tower until he was no longer on the side of the archers. The commander screamed manically in protest, ordering the archers to descend from their post and climb across to the building opposite. He never took his eyes of Altaïr, who, even from this distance, appeared to be grinning. _This was probably all a game to him_, I cried angrily. Stupid man.

I ran through the street, straight past the horde of guards, trying to look surreptitious as I wheedled my way around the side of a small building until I was faced with the tower in full view. I looked stupidly up its whole, seemingly endless length until I caught sight of Altaïr, darting upwards like a monkey. I heard the shouts of angry men and pressed myself up close to the wall as a stream of archers filed through the street and up a ladder to the building upon which I leaned against. One archer spotted me and quickly broke away before he reached the ladder.

"Excuse me, madam, but if I were you, I would leave now. There is a deadly Assassin on the loose and things will get dangerous." My heart lurched again at the word but I did my best to feign surprise.

"There is?!" I replied incredulously, looking intently at the archer's kindly face. Of course, there was no way he could know what I knew but I appreciated his concern and thanked him graciously before walking calmly away, as if to leave. Instead, I flitted to the right and out of the archer's sight. I peered round and watched him climb the ladder like the rest of the men. I breathed out and steeled myself before running along the street until I saw another ladder up to the rooftops as I would no longer be able to follow the Archer's up.

I heard the enraged call of the commander as he screamed: "FIRE!" and in my head, I screamed with him. I span around and watched as another torrent of arrows raced towards Altaïr. Many smashing into the rounded wall and bouncing off again but a few others hitting true. Two speared themselves into Altaïr's robes, holding him to the side of the wall and another narrowly missed the fingers of his right hand, probably cutting them but he did not let go. I saw him glance down and mutter something to himself before tugging at his robes, trying to free them. They were stuck fast and his expression became one of annoyance as he tugged again. I launched up the ladder and scrambled up and over a crate to reach the rooftop where the archers were stationed. I crouched down low to avoid being seen and watched with sickening clarity as the commander sneered triumphantly, ordering the Archer's once more, to fit their bows and fire.

He thought he had Altaïr exactly where he wanted him. And I couldn't help but agree. I couldn't see how Altaïr would escape this one; he was still trying to free his robes, no doubt fully aware of what the commander would think to do next. I began to feel around the uneven rooftop where I lay in hiding, looking for anything that I could use as a projectile.

I picked up a small rock and clasped it tightly in my right hand, feeling its weight and judging the distance I could throw it. I could see the Archer's reaching behind them into their quivers and drawing out a single arrow, fitting it methodically to their bows, resting it on their left fist and drawing back the bow with their first two fingers on their right hand. The commander was leering manically, his whole being currently overcome with the excitement of capturing Altaïr. I glanced up to the tower, illuminated by bright mid morning light and saw with alarm that Altaïr was still in the same place, his robe still stuck with only one arm free to try and loosen it. I held the rock up and took aim; the commander as my target. Just as he was about to open his mouth to sound the command, I launched the rock in the direction of his head and waited the split second for his cry of pain. I threw myself behind the crate and triumphantly listened as he instantly roared in agony, hearing the clatter of arrows being dropped and the cries of the other man asking him what had happened.

Of course, as with many of my master plans, there tends to be a tragic flaw. In this case, it would be that fact that Archers are well learned in all areas of projectiles, meaning - in this case - they can very easily tell where a projectile came from. In fact, I don't even think you have to be an archer to tell that if a rock comes flying and hits a man in the _back_ of his head, there is a very great chance that the projectile came from _behind_ him.

With this split second revelation, my whole plan fell to pieces and I frantically threw myself down onto the rooftop below, pressing as close as I could to the wall as I heard the thumps of men's footsteps running the ten meters that the rock had flown. I stopped breathing instantaneously, keeping as quiet as I could.

"No you IDIOTS! I don't care where the blasted rock came from, GET THE ASSASSIN!" I heard the commander roar. I squeezed my eyes closed and begged for them to leave, for if they peered over the edge, my fate was sealed. Thankfully, the Archer's returned immediately and I gratefully exhaled, the panic temporarily abated. Thank god for the dogged commander. If he was actually any good at his job he would have made sure to find the one who'd struck him. Too bad he was an idiot.

I looked up to see that Altaïr had freed himself and was already almost to the top. I grinned inside as the commander screamed shrilly in irritation for he knew as well as Altaïr that the further Altaïr climbed, the harder and harder it would be to hit him with arrows. However, the Archer's were trying their damned hardest. Another torrent of arrows rapidly ascended but the aim was becoming poorer and poorer; all the arrows either over shot the mark completely or rebounded uselessly off the side of the tower.

"YOU THERE!" The commander screamed, and I could imagine him pointing at one of his Archer's, fixing his Altaïr-hungry eyes on the poor man. "CLIMB UP THAT TOWER AND GET HIM!"

I almost laughed out loud. Although I could see nothing but the rooftops, I could easily imagine the commander gawking crazily at his Archer while the Archer looked on helplessly, eyeing the tower and casting the idea straight off.

"But sir! There is no way I can climb like _him_!" The designated Archer protested, and I could almost hear the carefully concealed tone of admiration and awe as he said it.

"I DON'T CARE! TRY IT!" Screamed the commander, sounding like he was almost inches away from throwing himself of the nearest bridge through sheer frustration. I crept back to the crate that I had been hiding behind moments before; about ten to fifteen metre's behind the band of Archers and their lunatic Commander, and peered over the side to see a stunned looking Archer attempting to find a handhold in the tower. The commander looked on from a distance behind and was screaming insults at every opportunity, flinging his sword around in anger, spittle almost flying from his mouth like a rabid dog. There was no way the Archer could climb it and I felt a stab of sorrow as I watched him desperately try. There was obviously much to fear from the commander, otherwise I could see no reason why he could try so desperately.

The poor man managed to climb a metre or so before slipping while missing a foot hold and landing unceremoniously back in a heap on the dusty ground, his face a grim mask of anxiousness and fear. The commander's face was turning an unhealthy shade of puce as he paced around, suddenly jumping back in shock as if he had been stung. He bent down to his feet and picked up something which had just landed near his toes. I noticed with satisfaction that it was one of Altaïr's throwing knives, easily recognised by its beautiful, sleek shape. The commander obviously knew who it belonged to as well and screamed that he would seek him out and not rest until his head was mounted on his wall. Altaïr was purposefully mocking the man and I could not help but enjoy the feeling as much as he must be doing from his vantage point upon the tower, where I could still see him sitting.

The commander snapped for the Archer to rejoin the lines and I watched him scurry back mollified, obviously embarrassed at his lack of wall climbing prowess.

"LINE UP! I want one more shot at him!"

The men obliged and I saw them string their bows again before drawing their right arm beyond their ear and releasing, pinging an arrow in Altaïr's direction. I withdrew behind the crates again and breathed deeply to try and calm down; he would be fine.

And then, suddenly, the leader shouted again. I froze in complete shock. For this time, it was not a cry of annoyance, or anger… it was a cry of triumph and accomplishment. I shot a glance at the top of the tower, to the tiny plinth where Altaïr had been sitting only moments before, and realised with terror that Altaïr was no longer there.

There was no one there. He was gone.

_

* * *

__On that happy note..._

_I've decided that I'm going to start addressing peoples review's at the end of each chapter so if you've reviewed then I can guarantee you'll have a reply at the end of the next chapter!_

_**Aeron20**__ You know that you love cliff-hangers really. No like seriously! Was the conclusion to said cliff-hanger satisfactory? It'll get better. I promise :D (Well, at least I think it does! :P)_

_**SpazzChicken **__Well, a mini fight…More 'flight' than actual 'fight' but don't worry, there will be lots of fights to come. I mean, this is Altaïr we're talking about! Haha, thanks for the justification but I know I'm a bit naughty when it comes to him, I can't help myself! My imagination is constantly on over drive. But yeah, I think we can safely say that he smiles while not on a mission…hehe._

_**Erica5 **__The mystery woman is indeed just that…a mystery. But of course, all will be revealed in due course. But as you can see, she tends to pop up rather inconsistently. ;) _

_**Migido667 **__You should have been here to watch my jaw smack the floor when I read your review of chapter 14! You hit the nail bang on the head! I couldn't believe it! You're either a) Reading my mind. b) just generally psychic or c) TOTALLY FRICKIN' AWESOME!_

_**Yogos **__Thanks very much and don't you worry, this is a fan fiction that will be seen through until the very very end! _

_**Gangstadolly **__I'm glad that you think so! (Even though I think that I take huge liberties with him! But I love him and I know he's all squidgy and lovely inside!)_

_Thanks to everyone who reads and reviews (especially reviewers!) because it's you guys who keep me going! (Even though I love writing :D)_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

It was at about that moment that my world came crashing down. The true realisation of what had just happened hit me with such unexpected force that I had to hold onto myself to stop me from shattering into pieces. My mind went blank and my thoughts ran in still images. Altaïr was there. Then he was not. There again. Gone again.

The men's shouts of triumph echoed soundlessly in my ears, their words holding no meaning to me… my mind fuzzy.

And then it hit me more strongly. Altaïr was dead. An arrow had hit him and he had fallen off the tower, crashing to his death. I began to shake uncontrollably, the energy draining from my body like a broken dam, flooding in streams and leaving me with nothing. I curled into a ball beside the crate and shook silently, tears beginning to force themselves out of my eyes, streaming down my cheeks in uncontrollable waves.

I would never see him again. He was gone.

Nothing made an impression upon my brain, not even the hearty laughs and footsteps of the Archers as they walked my way, commenting on their fine luck at such an easy kill. But even if I was able to hear them, there was nothing I could do; my body was drained and I could barely nudge a finger. They came across me with my arms wrapped around my knees, holding the shattered pieces of my body tightly together, lest they should be allowed to fly away, cutting my chances even further of ever becoming whole again.

"What have we here?" The commander drawled; his harsh voice grating against me, even in such an unresponsive state.

"Looks like a woman." One of the Archers answered unhelpfully back, earning a few choice sniggers from his comrades.

Their commander turned back to stare at him, his eyes brimming with harsh and unforgiving menace.

"I know that you IDIOT." He roared, sending every Archer silent, faces wiped of any trace of emotion.

"What is your name?" He shouted to me, his face inches from mine. In the recesses of my mind, I recognised it as a question but I could make no sense of its meaning. I stayed numbly silent, unsure of what the answer should be.

He waited a few seconds before asking again, louder and more brash this time. But not even the increase in volume could make the words mean anything more to me. He raised his hand and struck me brutally across the face. It was strong enough that I could feel it smarting already. I felt like I should have answered him sooner or retaliated but there was no fight in me.

"ANSWER ME YOU WHORE!" He bellowed, his spittle flying into my face.

"Sir…," One archer bravely began, his voice shaking slightly with the knowledge that he was about to question his commander's authority. "Perhaps we should just leave her?"

"NO!" He shouted back, "No we should not just leave her! We have to ask ourselves a few questions, such as, what was she doing here? Every other citizen had fled so why did she stay?! And why so close?!" While he spoke, he paced angrily but still with a slight spring in his step that belonged to a man who had achieved something great in the last few minutes.

"Maybe she was inquisitive?" Another soldier volunteered, his voice also meek.

"You want to know what I think!?" The commander shouted, his tone making it perfectly clear that no one was to say 'no'. "I think she knew that man we just killed. The Assassin." He spat the last word with such hatred that even I, in my dazed state, felt the true force of his revulsion.

That word sent a little buzz of recognition through me and I could not place it. Why did it sound so important? So special? That word tugged at the pieces of me that I was trying so desperately to contain, threatening to pull me entirely apart.

"I also think she threw that rock at my head." He shouted. "But it obviously takes me to work that out because you are all too stupid!" He gingerly rubbed the back of his head as if to reiterate the pain I had caused him.

None of the guards dared to undermine his authority and so they dutifully nodded their heads and agreed.

"In that case," The commander said, "We take her for questioning. Pick her up."

I vaguely felt gentle but forceful hands lift me up by my elbows but I resisted. If my arms were removed then there was no way to hold me together.

"No…" I mumbled. The men tried again to lift me to my feet.

"No!" I said a little louder. Why wouldn't they stop? Could they not see I was content to stay here and sit?

"Sir, she doesn't seem to want to come..." Said one Archer, after the third attempt at trying to raise me to my feet proved fruitless.

"Oh for god's sake!" yelled the Commander, his voice rising in anger intensity, threatening to overflow again. I saw him raise his fist and then my whole world went a darker shade of black.

* * *

I woke up in an unfamiliar place, my head pounding incessantly with a throbbing pain and my wrist feeling raw and bloody. I looked round and my eyes struggled to adjust to the lack of light. I was in a cell, I could tell that much as it was dark and cold and my arms were chained above my head, my wrists scraping against the side of the iron manacles I could feel around them. How did I get here? I reflected groggily, my thoughts still disorientated.

For the second time that day, the painful realisation suddenly came crashing down around me, burning my insides with its intensity again. The last thing that had happened was that Altaïr had died. Now I remembered. My face was puffy and I could feel the salty tracts on my cheeks where the tears had burned last time.

I heard a door creak slowly open and footsteps pad lightly across my cell, stopping where my body lay trussed up against the wall. My wrists suddenly flopped free and I was half walked half dragged across the stone floor to the door where suddenly everything became bright and warm. The person supporting me suddenly let go, and I fell to the floor on my knees, noting numbly that almost everywhere on my body hurt. But I couldn't tell whether that was physical or mental pain and the lack of obvious distinction irked me.

I massaged my wrists dully before a fistful of my hair was suddenly seized and I cried out in pain as I was dragged upwards to my feet, forcing me to try and support myself on my useless limbs.

My vision was less blurred now and the man towering over me was obviously the maniacal commander from before. I could see his features clearly now. He had a thin face and a pointed chin, covered by a wispy black beard and harsh cheekbones jutting down his face. He was rather ugly. I surreptitiously surveyed the room and noticed that he was not the only person there with me. There were other men present too, their faces drawn into cruel lines like his but looking bored, their heads lolling against their arms as they lounged absent mindedly on plush chairs.

"I will ask you for the fourth time today." The commander spat, his voice harsh and his fist still gripping my hair. "What is your name?"

I think the unconsciousness must have helped, for this time the question made more sense and the words held more meaning. He was requesting my name. I spent half a second debating whether to give him my real name or a false one.

"Asra." I replied croakily, my voice failing me.

"That's a good start." He said, releasing my hair and pacing the room. I slumped back to the floor, my legs giving way the instant he let go. If I hadn't known Altaïr was dead then I have no doubt that I would have put up a fight, but as it was, I could do nothing but slump pathetically on the floor, voices buzzing around me. I was sickened at my own lack of spirit. I made an attempt to re-arrange myself on the floor; bringing my legs underneath me and kneeling but I realised that this looked too meek and dutiful so I forced myself to stand. My knees were weak and provided next to nothing in the way of support but I still managed to climb shakily to my feet and stand there, looking at the commander with as much force as I could muster.

"Oh, so recovered now have we?" The commander sneered, turning back to face me. I said nothing, only looked into his unblinking eyes and determined not to look afraid.

"What could have sent you into such a state I wonder?" The commander said thoughtfully, exaggerating his words by placing his finger on his chin and tapping it. "You have been mumbling in your sleep, it's been ever so insightful." He drawled.

I tensed instantly, my heart pounding loudly as I contemplated his words. Had I really been speaking in my sleep? If so, what had I said? My heart retained an anxious pace but I tried to looked unaffected as if was he said didn't matter to me.

"You were ranting about a man… Altaïr was it?" He said, turning to the men beside him for confirmation. The pain shot through me as he said his name and the fear followed quickly after. "You were mumbling, 'please don't kill him!' and, 'no, he can't be dead!'" The commander mocked, imitation a woman's voice with his face twisted into a snide sneer as he stared at me, eyes boring through me the same way _his_ used to but in a completely different fashion. This man's eyes were harsh and unforgiving, dripping with menace and accusation. I shamefully averted my gaze but stayed standing tall. I couldn't believe I had said those things.

"This leads me to believe," he continued, "That you were talking about that piece of scum we shot off the tower this morning."

I trembled where I stood, the painful visions scrolling through my head again. I tried desperately to contain them but they stood prominent in my mind, taunting me with their vividness. I closed my eyes, lest the tears start to flow again.

The commander strode towards me and stopped his face inches from mine. "I want you to tell me everything you know about that piece of filth." He turned around and sat on a large chair opposite, resting one leg upon the other, "For starters. Where did he operate from?"

"I don't know." I replied, my voice a glazed and emotionless monotone, even to me. A chorus of humourless laughs sounded at my reply and the commander smirked cruelly from where he sat. "We'll try again shall we? The commander said, his voice positively dripping with condescension. "Where did he operate from?"

"I don't know." I repeated a little stronger. Was this man so simple that he could not understand three small words? In that case, maybe he deserved pity instead of hatred.

"Look whore." He said menacingly, "I have no time for your frivolous diversions. You either tell me about him now in the safety of this room or I take you downstairs and thrash the answer out of you." He stood up and held out his hand imperatively. A man sitting in a chair beside him shot up and picked up something that was resting in the corner of a grand oak framed fireplace before placing it quickly in his upturned palm. He grasped the handle appreciatively, revelling in the brutish weight of the item before holding it up for me to see.

"Do you know what this is?" He asked, jolting it around in the air for emphasis. And I did, of course. It was a whip; that much was obvious. It had a thick wooden handle and pieces of leather extending from it with knots tied at the end for maximum pain. I eyed it warily but stayed quiet.

"DO YOU?!" He roared, brandishing it in front of me.

I nodded my head once.

"Good." He said, calming down slightly. "If you know what it is then you know what it does. Now, I would loathe using this on you and marring your pretty body but I will if forced to." He explained, as if he was doing no more than giving me directions, not talking of torture.

"So I'll ask you again and give you one more chance." He drawled, "Where did he operate from?"

"I don't know." I said for the third time. I knew it was the wrong answer before it even left my lips but the answer he wanted was not one I had.

He didn't roar in anger like I expected him to, instead he strode up to me with the whip in his right hand and gripped my right arm, squeezing it painfully beneath his fingers. He nodded in the direction of another door to the left of where I was standing, opposite the cell I had been in and another man quickly jumped up and opened it for him, bowing low as the commander marched towards it, thrusting me harshly in front of him and pushing me until I walked submissively to my own torture.

We descended down a flight of stone stairs, with him pushing me whenever he thought I was not moving fast enough, until we came to another wooden door. He forced his way in front of me and pushed the door wide open, treating me to a glimpse of a brightly lit, but windowless room, covered with straw. He pushed me forwards and I stumbled and fell, reopening the wound on my right forearm. I gritted my teeth in pain but quickly stood up, so as not to anger him further. Flaming torches were stationed at regular intervals on the wall, giving the room a pleasant warm feel; luring people into a false sense of security. The straw on the floor was a giveaway as to the kinds of activities that took place in the room. Some of the straw was thick with blood, dying it completely red and I had a sick feeling that I was about to contribute to the bloody mess.

"It does _pain_ me to do this." He sighed dramatically, lightly tapping the whip against his opened palm. I had a number of things I would have liked to say back to him but I felt that this was not the time to do it. It's never clever to provoke a volatile man with a weapon in his hand.

He gave a sudden sharp shout and I heard the footsteps of more people running down the steps. They came through the doorway in a matter of seconds; three of them, big brutish men with hardly any hair and tall imposing forms. I shrank in their presence, my head still pounding and my mind still a mess of fear and disjointed, painful images.

The commander jerked his chin towards the wall and the three men suddenly descended upon me, grabbing my arms and pulling me forwards towards the middle of the room. I screamed and thrashed with as much energy as I could muster but I may as well have been screaming and hitting at a stone wall. I heard the clanging of metal and I was suddenly hoisted up, my wrists pulled back up into chains above my head. I tried to kick out at one of my captors and managed to strike one in the stomach but was rewarded with a sharp fist in my abdomen. I dropped my head in pain and gasped for air as the men proceeded to pull up chains from beneath the hay. They adjusted them so that they would stop me from being able to move my legs. I was hanging from the ceiling, the metal cutting into the flesh at my wrists and the too-tight manacles at my ankles hindering all movement. With this having been done to the commander's satisfaction, the three men silently left the room, leaving me facing the commander from a useless position, the whip still silently tapping against his hand.

I couldn't believe this was happing to me. Until this morning, my life had been perfect and in one fell swoop, everything had gone wrong. I refused to cry again, even though tears loomed threateningly. The commander silently walked towards me, his footsteps muffled by the blood soaked hay. He was the predator and I was his prey, there was no doubt about that. And now I was strung up by his minions; trussed up like wounded animal making me far easier to contain and devour.

My clothes were still largely intact except for a few rips and tears along my arms and my legs but all of a sudden, he strode behind me and violently jerked at the back of my tunic, trying to tear it off. Instead, it suddenly choked me and I coughed and spluttered jerkily from where I hung. I could hear him draw out a knife and angrily cut down the length of my tunic, ripping it away as it was cut and exposing the soft flesh of my back. I hung my head and squeezed my eyes shut, preparing myself for the pain. And I knew it would be intense.

I could imagine the commander grinning greedily at the sight of such unblemished skin, desperate to add his mark to my body with long lacerations. He was a sick man.

He drew the whip back in his right hand before slamming it with all his force onto my back. I couldn't help but cry out in pain. The mental preparation before hand was nowhere near enough and couldn't have sufficiently prepared me for the sick, violently burning sensation I felt as the whip tore up my back. I bit down on my tongue, tasting blood and whimpered pathetically as my back kept on burning, my head hung and my eyes squeezed shut.

"Now that we've established what it feels like. Would you like to begin and tell me about these Assassins?"

Why couldn't he understand that I had no information? Why did people like him never realise that no matter how much a person is punished, they cannot bring forth information they have no previous knowledge about. It pained me as much as it pained him, for I had known nothing about the man I loved, nothing except for what was on the surface.

I heard him draw back the whip again but I gritted my teeth too late and the pain ripped through me, even more intense than before as it hit my previous wound. He drew it back again and again, beating me for every second I remained silent. My back was on fire and the tears leaked freely with no way to wipe them away. He was breathing heavily from a combination of exertion and annoyance as he walked around the side of me until he was face to face.

I felt his hand enclose roughly around my chin before he jerked it up to face him.

"Quiet the little secret keeper aren't we?" He hissed, his breath hot on my face. I jerked my head away from him in the only act of defiance that was available to me. This enraged him further but I was beyond caring.

"Mark my word, Asra," he spat, saying my name as if it was the worst kind of curse, "I will find the Assassin's and put an end to them, with or without your help. So why don't you just save me the trouble and help me by telling me what you know? That way, I may even be able to let you walk free."

"Are you really as stupid as you sound?" I whispered, my voice quiet but stronger now. "I don't know anything! Why is that so hard to understand?!"

His face twisted in fury. "You cross the line, whore!" He bellowed, striking my face with such force that my head span and the room darted in and out of focus. He marched back around me and drew the whip behind him again, bringing it down stronger and harder as punishment for not only my lack of information but my lack of 'respect'. The pain was as strong as ever but my little outburst had given me new strength and I bore the brunt of the attacks noiselessly while cursing this man to the fiery pits of hell and back. It was a remark I'd heard used by Christians soldiers and it seem to suit this occasion well.

I'd lost counts of the amount of lashes but I think it was around forty by the time he stopped. All the while he had been shouting questions at me and I had stayed silent, sending him into a frenzy of attacks and shouts. My mind was going fuzzy with the agony as he stepped back, breathing heavily, to examine his handiwork. I could feel the lacerations criss crossing across my back, the fiery agony of each one cutting deep into my skin and the blood seeping thickly down into my shredded clothes.

"Luckily for you, I like your spirit." The commander heaved, his breath coming fast, "And I'm going to keep you alive because I'm not willing to believe that someone who put their life on the line for someone by daring to strike me would not know anything about them."

But that was exactly the case, I said silently in my head. That was the ever painful truth. I thought I had cried all I could but a fresh wave of tears dripped silently down my cheeks; my lack of knowledge about _him_ hurt me almost as much as the lashings. The commander shouted again and the same three men from before materialised instantly. The commander attached the whip to a ring on his belt, patting it like an adored pet as the men loomed overhead, opening one manacle, letting my left arm hang uselessly beside me, then opening the right one and causing me to slump to the floor in a messy, bloody pile. I sobbed silently into the bloody hay as one man released my raw ankles and the other two roughly picked me up and dragged me by my arms up the stairs; my feet hitting each step on the way up.

"Put her back in that cell in my chambers." The commander shouted from behind me and I was dragged back into the cell I'd come from and left on the floor in a heap, crying to myself.

* * *

_**Reikat **__Your review made me giggle like a maniac, it's such a bold claim! Comparing my humble fic to the excellence that is apparently Batman (Haven't actually seen it yet(EDIT! Yes I have! Last night, and it was awesome!)) so thank you so much, and I can only hope that it continues to excite ;)_

_**Digital Coma **__Haha, I'm sorry, my fic is going to stay rated T, but that's not to say things can't happen ;) And funnily enough, that's what I was looking forward to as well; Altaïr being the Altaïr we know from the game. As much as I love Asra, he needed a time to shine. And honestly, don't worry, I don't take offense at anything, it's just a personal preference and an opinion and I can't say anything against that! But yeah, she's 19 and she can act her age! _

_**MusicalSoul**__ I'm so glad I was able to evoke that feeling, it was the angle I was going for :D_

_**dear – ambellina **__I'm really glad you think so! _

_**Alimah **__Haha, I know, I know, you're right of course! And I can only hope I remain doing something right! Hehehe. I hope I didn't cause you to damage your computer! ;) And of course, keep guessing, that's the idea,no?_

_**Aeron20 **__Yeah, I almost feel sorry for the guards, well, at least until they attack me for walking that little bit faster on the freaking horse! I mean jeez! What is up with those guys!?_

_**Iyrsiiea **__Haha, I know exactly what you mean. I love a lot of things too :P And I'm extremely glad that my fic is among the things you love! It warms my heart ;)_

_**Migido667 **__No, sorry Migido, I can't believe you. You're just psychic. Admit it. But seriously, my jaw smacked the floor. It was funny :P And many hugs in return!_

_**DetectiveTectiv**__e Thank you so, so much for all your reviews, I love it when people review on each chapter as they read ;) But don't knock yourself down! I had never written more than a 2000 word story before this fanfic and I can do it so I'm pretty sure you can too! Don't compare yourself, just get out there and write! And weirdly…I haven't considered writing another fic after I've finished this one….I have no idea why but it just never crossed my mind! Odd… BTW, 'dud' isn't an odd word, it just means something along the lines of 'fake' or 'useless'. He was just threatening the guy because he didn't want to be sold a useless horse. That's all that it means I looked up Sly Cooper on Wikipedia….what does he have to do with this!? You've confuddled me! So you mean he can do anything?! :D_

_**SpazzChicken **__Keep with the weak guesses, not that your one is right, but keep 'em up. That's what writers want for their readers, of course ;) _

_**Erica5 **__All will be revealed in due course, I promise ;)_

_Thanks again to everyone who reviews. Seriously, it just makes me so happy! After I post a new chapter I always speed back to the computer the next day to check if I've got any reviews and when I do I'm always like…"SQUUEEEE!" It really helps me a lot. And we've raced over the 100 review mark! Thank you all so much! Lets keep it up! _

_- Minnie x_


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

I woke up the next morning still slumped on the cold stone floor. My cheek was pressed into the ground and my arms wrapped around my body trying to keep warm. I made the tiniest movement and screamed as the pain from my back shot through my body like icy fire. Fresh tears leaked again and I made no attempt to wipe them away. My whole body was like a lump of rock and every limb felt heavy and uselessly limp, I couldn't even move an arm. I stayed lying on the floor, ignoring the emptiness inside as the many types of pain gnawed away at me.

After what could have been three minutes or three hours of watching the stone floor from my horizontal angle, I heard the loud metallic _clunk_ as the door was pushed open and a pretty girl with dark skin entered the room carrying a jug. She looked at me with pity in her eyes followed by unabashed horror as she glanced to my back and saw the flesh ripped open like I imagined it was. She crouched down beside me and I raised my head sluggishly to look at her.

"M-m'lady," She stammered, "I've been told to give you a sip of water but that you are to get no food because the master intends to…" She paused and was having visible trouble trying to get the words out. "…to starve you into submission." Her eyes darted around apologetically and she sounded dreadfully uncomfortable as she spoke, her soft voice anxious. I could tell that Arabic was not her first language as she stuttered and tripped over here words nervously. I wanted to reassure her that it wasn't her fault that there was nothing she could do to help me but I couldn't raise my body and my voice was nothing but a hoarse whimper.

She rested the jug on the floor beside me and knelt next to my head, her cool hands holding my head tenderly as she lifted me up and supported me as I drank. The cool liquid felt wonderful on my parched, painful throat.

"Thank you." I whispered quietly as she let go of my head and rested it gently back on the floor. She took another look at my wounds and grimaced.

"Miss, I wish there was something I could do for your back…"

"I know there is nothing you can do, it's okay." I reassured her hoarsely, "If you were to help me than your master would punish you."

She nodded wide eyed and apologised once more before standing briskly up and leaving the cell, closing the large wooden door quietly behind her.

* * *

When you are on your own and in the dark, it is impossible to tell where one day ends and another begins. The servant girl had come over two days ago now, so this must be the third day in the cell. By this time, I'd successfully managed to turn around to my other side but it had been brutal agony. My back wasn't healing well and I feared that infection would set in for it hadn't been treated. But I tried not to think of scary things like that, instead, I contented myself with picturing shapes in the walls that didn't exist, joining the cracks in the stones to one another in my mind and tapping my fingers on the floor, humming tunelessly.

Although I loathed being in such close proximity to the detestable commander I had learnt a few things about him. The walls were thick but the door had a thinner metal meshed part, a bit like a window only without the visibility. Through this, I could hear snatches of conversation.

For starters, his name was Seif al Din al-Jamil Ibn Abdul-Azizand he was commander of the military forces in Damascus like I had thought. I'd also heard snippets of a conversation he'd had between his soldiers about his assigned task of detaining as many Assassin's as he could, hence the reason he was so dogmatic over _him_.

I couldn't say his name now. It made me feel weak but I couldn't do it. Every time I lapsed and thought of his name inside my head, the pain would tear through me again and the emptiness I strove so hard to stave away would crash over me like an angry wave. So I didn't think about him.

Because of Seif al Din'splan to starve me into telling him what he wanted to know, I'd been allowed nothing to eat since the night I was taken and my stomach screamed in protest. I'd never gone so long without food and my already pathetically weak body was becoming weaker by the hour. The only way to stave off the hunger was to sleep and so it was how I spent most of my hours in between visualising shapes in the wall and counting blemishes on my body.

* * *

When I woke up again, I instinctively knew it was not morning. Something was wrong and I strained my ears to listen through the thick walls that encased my little cell. I could hear nothing out of the ordinary but I was certain something was not right. Now was the time to move.

I breathed deeply in and out once before forcefully raising my arm and pushing my battered body up. I felt the agony as many of the wounds on my back re-split and I accidently cried out, gritting my teeth with the effort. It hurt beyond anything I'd ever felt, but the good news was that I had raised myself onto my knees and it was a start. I crawled tentatively across the floor, moving as little as possible so as not to disturb my angry lacerations. I rested my head on the wooden door which was the thinnest part of my cell and strained my ears once more. At first it sounded like nothing out of the ordinary but after a few seconds I could have sworn I heard screaming and the clashing of swords. I felt my heart start beating faster but I stayed where I was next to the door straining for sounds.

I could hear Seif al Din's snores from where I was which obviously meant that he had heard nothing out of the ordinary. I sighed to myself and was about to turn around and crawl back into middle of the cell, until there was another crash and I knew what I heard was sword fighting. There was no other sound quite as distinctive. But on top of the far-off clashing of swords I could hear distant screaming and it worried me. Suddenly, the clash of a sword resounded far closer that it had been but a mere two seconds ago and I heard a door being kicked angrily open that could be no further away than down the corridor. I heard the loud choked snores of Seif al Din as he was roused from his sleep by the noise. I suppressed a little gasp and crawled tentatively back to the middle of the cell, making sure to curl back up in my regular position.

Something was terribly wrong and it sounded like some lunatic going on a killing spree through the building. I suddenly heard a door smash open and I knew it was the one into Seif al Din'sbed chamber. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and tried to stay silent so no-one would know I was here. I heard Seif al Din make a scared choking sound and I bit my tongue. What was going on out there? The rough footsteps of someone suddenly sounded as they strode somewhere in the room. Then, the sickening, blood drowned gurgles of the commander could be heard as I knew he lay dying, sounding like he'd been stabbed.

My heart hammered against my chest and I feared it would give me away. I remained in my tight little ball, trying to block out the repulsive sounds of the commander dying slowly and hoping that this maniac would move on without finding me.

But there would be no such luck with me. I heard the door creak open and became ice cold with fear. My back was facing the door and I was curled in a ball but the figure padded up silently behind me.

The only thing I could think about now was Malik and I apologised to him him for the pain he would go through for losing both his best friend and his little cousin. I hoped he would not mourn too long. Then I requested in my head that this person would kill me quicker than he had Seif al Din,for he was still gurgling nauseatingly from across the way. I noted with surprise how calmly I was approaching death, something I didn't think I could do before Altaïr died.

There.

I could say his name now for it did not matter. I would not be around to feel pain for much longer.

I felt the man crouch down beside me and I noted with surprise that I was not dead yet. How odd. He was taking the time to observe me first.

"Asra?"

My heart stopped instantaneously and I struggled to keep my raging thoughts in control. I couldn't let myself think such mental things. To do so would be unfair to myself. Altaïr was dead and that was the end of it. The dead cannot rise again.

But the voice. The beautiful voice. It was his and I couldn't deny that. I just couldn't. My voice was barely above a whisper as I uttered one word: "Altaïr?"

I turned my head ever so slightly and there he was: My very own angel crouching down just behind me, his face drawn into such an anguished expression that my heart cried out.

"Altaïr? Is it really you?" My voice quaked as I dared not believe.

"It's me, Asra. It's me." He replied softly, his voice so pained that I longed to hold out my hand and caress his face. My back was throbbing but I didn't give a damn. I span around and sat up on my knees, throwing myself into his arms and crushing my lips to his. He responded as desperately as I did with his soft lips and all my sadness and fear was evaporated in that instant. But as soon as he touched a hand to my back to draw me in closer, I moaned in agony. He drew his hand back like he'd been burned.

"What's wrong?" He said alarmed. He brought his hand up to his face and I saw his expression turn to shock as he realised that it was covered with my fresh blood. He took my hand in his own – as I think he could tell that I didn't want to let him go – and glanced around to my back. I watched his expression carefully, even with my eyes clouded with tears and he looked disgusted.

"What have they done to you?" He breathed furiously, turning back to look at me. I stared back into his beautiful eyes, becoming entangled in them like I used to.

"I was whipped." I replied quietly, drawing his hand into my chest and cradling it there like he was about to run away from me and I was desperate to stop him.

"How long ago?" His voice was thick with anger.

"I think it was around three…" His expression had turned livid and it scared even me, "days…" I finished meekly.

"You've been here in this state for three days?" He said darkly.

I nodded once and brought his hand up against my cheek, savouring the rough warmth of it against my skin. His expression was tortured and his beautiful eyes were full of sorrow as he looked at me and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. I closed my eyes and kept his hand against my cheek instead. He tilted his head and kissed me again but much gentler this time, one hand clasped around my face while the other caressed my neck, though careful not to go anywhere near my back again. The kiss lasted another few seconds before we heard the faint sounds of footsteps in the distance. Altaïr broke away and stood up sharply, his acute hearing no doubt allowing him to hear more than I could.

"Asra, we need to go." He said softly but the sense of urgency apparent in his voice.

"Altaïr, I haven't been able to walk for four days and I'm not sure if I can even stand up." I looked up at him apologetically.

"Who did all this to you?" He said through nearly gritted teeth. "I know that scumbag-" He gestured to the bed where the commander lay dead. "-took you but who hurt you like this?

"The very same man." I said quietly.

Altaïr's face was dark and menacing. "Then I went too easy on him. His death was neither long enough nor painful enough."

"No, don't think like that. Let's just get out of here first."

"You're right." He said and he knelt down and took both of my hands in his. "I'm so sorry if this hurts." He said, his voice low as he quickly planted a chaste kiss on my lips before standing up and pulling me up by my arms.

I gritted my teeth as hundreds of wounds burnt like fire but with his aid, I was pulled to my feet. They were still pathetically wobbly but I leant on him for support and managed to stand.

"Are you okay?" He asked tenderly.

"I'm fine." I winced, my back becoming one large area of dulling aches and throbbing. Still, that was better than them feeling like tendrils of flame.

We hobbled out the door, my legs feeling flimsy and unsupportive through lack of use.

"Don't look." Altaïr whispered quietly. I knew he was talking about the dead commander and I readily obliged. The trip through this grand place was new to me as I'd been unconscious when I was brought here originally. It was obscenely lavish with ornate carved pillars adorning every corner and huge wide, semi-circular balconies through each window. There were small side tables arranged in the corridors, lavished with fine brocades of silk draped over them and decorative vases with bouquets of wild lilies. I rolled my eyes at such over indulgence. We swiftly walked past them and down the eerily silent corridors meeting no resistance.

"Why is it so quiet?" I asked hesitantly.

"I was forced to kill some of the guards and I told the others to flee if they wanted to live." He said quickly. "They obviously heeded my advice."

We walked hastily for another few minutes, my legs becoming stronger and stronger, until suddenly, we came to the large entrance of the grand building and the city of Damascus being just beyond the gates. I saw two lumps stationed on the way out and noticed that they were the dead figures of the guards. I tried not to look too hard and gripped more tightly to Altaïr instead, the whole situation still not feeling quite real to me. There was an underlying fear that all of a sudden, Altaïr would disappear in a poof of smoke and I would wake up once again in that dark, cold cell, alone. The thought made me grip onto him that bit tighter.

The sky was still dark and you could tell it was early morning as the air was crisp and still cold and the streets were eerily empty. Altaïr and I walked briskly between the buildings and I found the cold air a pleasant sensation on my back. I had no idea where we would go but I didn't care where it was, so long as it was with Altaïr.

We twisted and turned through the streets in such a way that I would never be able to find my way back but Altaïr seem to know exactly where we were going and we continued on for another few minutes. At last, we came to stand outside a building that looked very much like a sandy coloured, stone box. The walls were high and smooth but completely devoid of any windows and there was no obvious entrance, but Altaïr kept looking up surreptitiously as if he expected the entrance to materialise overhead if he willed it enough. He let go of my hand for a second and began to feel his way around the walls, pressing here and there or sliding his hand across. After a few moments, he whispered triumphantly that he has found it.

"Found what?" I asked curiously.

"The door." He replied.

I was utterly mystified as to how he managed to 'lose' the door in the first place but I said nothing and simply looked on as he knocked quietly three times on the wall. There was a faint scuffling sound from inside the building and a few moments later, the wall he'd knocked on suddenly began to give way and swung open to reveal a youngish looking man with a short beard in nightclothes, looking irately on. At first he simple looked displeased but then he looked thoroughly infuriated as he caught sight of me. I shied away from his gaze, embarrassed under the intensity of his stare. Altaïr caught his eye and nodded imperceptibly before ushering me through the door and closing it quietly again. The man in his nightclothes gawked at me and narrowed his eyes at Altaïr, obviously waiting for an answer as to why I was here.

"Nasih," He began, addressing the man, "This is Asra."

The man continued to stare on, scrutinizing me closely.

"Fear not brother. She knows our ways." He said quickly, his voice low and unreadable.

This made more sense to me. This must be somewhere for Assassin's and this man Nasih, was afraid that Altaïr was breaking rules.

"How does she know?" The man accused, speaking as if I was not there.

"Nasih, she's standing right in front of you. Ask her yourself."

I was grateful for Altaïr's gesture but I hastily interjected before Nasih could speak, as I could see he was grumbling at being reprimanded. I didn't want to start on such bad terms, it wouldn't bode well for the future.

"I was with Altaïr when we were attacked by guards and they alerted me to his ..ah…profession…" Now that I said it out loud to myself, it sounded like a rather pathetic reason to know something so secret but Nasih could not know of the dreams I'd had before and the way you cannot ignore gut feelings. He stared at us both for a few more seconds before directing his question at Altaïr. He didn't look convinced in the slightest and I could not really blame him.

"Not that I am not pleased to see you my brother, but what are you doing here at such a ridiculous hour and why through that entrance? That entrance is not to be used except for the wounded."

Altaïr made to indicate wordlessly to my back but I slowly span around and showed Nasih myself, also understanding the reason why Altaïr did not know where that door was; he usually came through a different entrance.

"I see." He replied, slightly mollified. "I take it as that's why you're here."

Altaïr nodded. "But you can leave us Nasih. I am sorry for forcing you to awaken. I shall tend to her myself."

Nasih nodded and turned on his heel without a glance back at either of us. He ambled through a door and I heard him yawn as he went.

I glanced around me and only just began to notice the calming trickle of water as I saw a fountain out of the corner of my eye. An odd symbol, much like the the tip of an arrow with curved edges, was painted above the fountain and above that was a wide open roof, showing the dark expanse of the early morning sky and its spattering of stars. I suddenly remembered seeing that same symbol on the robes of the innkeeper whose inn we had rested in only a few days previously.

"What is this place?" I asked, strangely enthralled.

"It is the Assassin's Bureau of Damascus." Altaïr replied, quickly walking through the entrance Nasih had used seconds before and returning a few moments later with bandages and ointments laden in his arms.

"What is it you do here?" I gulped, unsure of the answer I was going to hear.

Altaïr hear the apprehension in my voice and spoke lower and more calmingly in response.

"This is our stronghold for Damascus; we have one in each majour city in the Holy Lands. Nasih is what we call a Bureau Leader, a rafiq, one who knows more about Damascus than anyone else. He aids us on our missions, giving us vital information on our targets and the lay of the lands."

He took my hand gently and led me further towards the fountain to a pile of soft cushions lying on the floor. "Come sit." He said softly.

I bent down gingerly and lowered myself as gently as I could. Inevitably, I still jerked too much and the pain shot down my back like lightening. Altaïr saw my grimace of pain and gently crouched down to touch my cheek, brushing my hair off my face. I smiled appreciatively at him before he quickly stood up; removing his weaponry and his long robes so he could sit down easier, then he lowered himself down and sat crossed legged in front of me. I watch inquisitively as he quickly unbuckled the ornate gauntlet from his right hand and laid it down beside him before turning to his left and deftly unfastening the buckles. I picked it up and felt its weight in my hands.

"This is your hidden blade, no?" I asked quietly, indicating to the rectangle of steel from his left gauntlet. His head snapped up from taking off his gloves.

"How do you know?" He asked, almost accusingly.

"I accidently deployed it while I tended your wounds that time when we were attacked by bandits."

"You weren't hurt were you?" He said quickly, concern filling his features.

"No, no. I was fine; I just got a bit of a fright. But now…It all sort of makes sense." I said quietly, my voice trailing off.

"What does?" He asked, his voice a little harder than before.

"Just you I suppose. The weaponry you carry and your fighting skills. The way you can climb and your physical ability." I explained, still holding the wrist blade gently in my hands. "It all makes sense. I feel stupid for thinking you were a scribe."

"Don't." He said, resting his hands upon mine. "It was I who lied to you about what I did. What where you to believe but what I said?"

"You're right. But it just sort of seems obvious… I mean, there is no-one else who can fight quite like you, or escape like you did those few days ago."

His eyes flashed suddenly and his voice was imperceptibly harder. "You saw that?"

"You climbing up the tower? Of course." I sighed morosely.

"I told you to run!" He said, angrier now.

"I wasn't about to leave you!" I protested. "I followed the guards and hid a few metres away, even when the Archers were shooting at you…. And I saw you die…."

That part made the least sense to me. I was so sure he'd been hit and fallen, as did the soldiers at the time. He looked positively baffled at this point.

"You saw me…die?" He repeated.

"Yes." I said, the tears welling in my eyes again. "One minute you were there, then they shot at you and you were gone."

"You were there but you didn't see me jump?" He said incredulously.

My eyes widened and I blinked a few times.

"Jump? You jumped?!" I repeated, my voice rising as I spoke.

"Yes, I jumped of that plinth and into the river below and escaped them that way. I had no idea they thought I'd died. "

I stared open mouth and dumbstruck for a few minutes, digesting this piece of news. Finally I had recovered enough to speak:

"Well they did. I did too. It was the worst moment of my life." a tear spilled shamefully down my cheek and I lowered my head so that he wouldn't see. Altaïr looked at me and thumbed away the tear with his now de-gloved right hand, holding my cheek in his hand.

"I'm sorry that I worried you like that." He said softly, looking at me in the eyes before releasing my cheek and picking up bottles from his side. He picked one up and dabbed its contents onto a piece of muslin. "Hold out your arm."

I extended my right arm and he began dabbing it down with the muslin, wiping away the dirt as gently as he could.

"And why did they take you?" He asked darkly, still holding my arm.

"They wanted to question me about you, because I hadn't moved from the spot beneath the tower and they saw me there, assuming that I knew who you were. I also threw a rock at the commander when he made to fire at you…"

He looked up at me at that point, his eyes flashing dangerously with a mixture of incredulity and anger. He must have thought I was blindingly stupid for raising arms against the guards. In all honestly, I probably was.

"Why hadn't you run away?" He asked after a few seconds, moving onto my other arm and sloshing more stinging liquid over all the cuts.

"I'd just thought you'd died Altaïr. I was I no state to move. I was a bit of a gibbering wreck." I replied disdainfully, trying not to think back to that dark time, now that it was behind me. "And so they knocked me out and carried me to wherever it was you found me. That commander kept on demanding to know where you operated from but I had no idea so didn't speak and he whipped me." I said, giving him a short cut down version of the story.

Altaïr had finished bandaging my arms and indicated for me to turn around. His face was devoid of emotion as he saw my back again.

"This isn't whipping," He said disgusted, trailing his forefinger close to my back, "this is being beating to within an inch of your life."

"It sort of felt like that." I laughed humorously.

"It would be best if you lie down flat." He said softly and he handed me a blanket from the pile of plush looking cushions we were sitting on, "And we need to take your tunic off." His voice didn't change which indicated that he could see nothing wrong with his request – and there wasn't really anything wrong with it – but I turned pink nevertheless and pointedly snatched the blanket from him. I held it tightly to my chest and he pulled the tunic of my back for me. I flinched as he brushed against a cut so instead of pulling it off and risk causing me more pain, he decided to simply hack it off.

In only a few minutes, the remnants of my pretty green tunic were lying in a shredded heap to the side and I was left with only my ripped under shorts as I lay down on the cushions, clutching the blanket he'd given me tightly to my breasts in perpetual embarrassment.

He dabbed more liquid onto some fabric and held it poised above my back. "Asra, this is going to sting like hell."

"If I had to go through the actual whipping, I'm entirely sure I can stand the sting." I said, my voice sounding braver than I actually felt.

He didn't say another word but let the actions do the talking instead. He dabbed the muslin on my skin and he was completely right. It did sting like hell. I gritted my teeth and bore it though, for it was far less than the original pain.

"Asra. When you heard the guards shout Assassin and I did nothing to deny it….Why did you still stay?" His voice was steady and emotionless. His question perfectly voiced the concerns I'd originally had on that day. But the answer was simple.

"_Because I love you_." I said in my head. "_Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you and have your babies_." Okay, no, the last one just sounded silly.

"Because I decided that, uh, I didn't care what you did. For some reason, it no longer mattered to me."

"Not even if I kill people for a living?" he said dryly.

"Not even if you kill people." I gulped.

"Hmm." He mused, "I don't know what to say to that. One one hand, I want to take you in my arms right now. But on the other, I don't know whether to think you're a fool for saying what you've just said."

I felt a little stab of hurt at his words but I he was not wrong.

"I know that you…- well, uh, you don't seem like the type that would kill unnecessarily and so I deduced that you were not an… evil Assassin…-" I grimaced slightly at my choice of words. I sounded like a child. "…-who killed whomever they were asked to for money, but rather an Assassin who took no sides and killed whoever was cruel and obstructed the peace. Something like that…" I ended, trailing off timidly.

I felt a little stupid, as I'd kept those thoughts entirely private up until now. I was also fully aware of how idealistic they sounded, like they were the words I wanted to hear but not the ones that were true. I braced myself for the crushing blow when he would tell me that he was in fact willing to kill whoever with no qualms, providing the price was right. I wasn't sure what I would do if that was the case. Could I still love him?

He remained still, absorbing my words. He seemed poised with an answer but was either fighting with it or confused by it.

"Yes." He concluded simply. Too simply.

"Yes?" I repeated, my throat a little dry. He didn't sound convinced and his lack of confidence did nothing to calm me.

"You're right." He said, "We rid the country of those who…" he paused, "…obstruct the peace." He settled upon the last word with hopeful determination.

"I don't like the way you said that." I whispered fearfully.

He breathed in deeply through his nose and shut his eyes briefly."It is true. We remove those who obstruct the peace. It is only that events in the last year caused us all, but me especially, to call all of that into question. People died that did not necessarily need to and it culminated in an event the shook the foundations of what we believed in."

I wasn't sure if he was trying to tell me something further. "So what happened in the last year was nothing more than an…anomaly?" I tried.

He gave a short laugh. "I have yet to hear it called something that makes it seem so insubstantial."

"No, I didn't mean to undermine it." I replied hurriedly.

"It is nothing." He said shortly. "It is probably a good way to describe it. Last year, assassinations were ordered that ended up deviating from what we believe in. Our trust was betrayed and all of us ended up feeling like frauds and fakes. We trusted our leader and believed that what he did was in the best interests of all. And so he was not questioned." He said bitterly. "But he should have been, because he made a mockery of all that I believed in and made me kill people simply because he himself did not want them around."

Altaïr looked angry even thinking about it and his words were cold and sharp. He was a man betrayed. "I see." I replied quietly. He didn't speak again and I offered him no further conversation. There was no falsity in his words and the emotion in his voice was hard to fake but he was still an Assassin. Who was I to think that he might not lie to me?

After more consideration I said softly: "I do believe you. I do."

"You don't sound so sure. But if you did think I was a murderous psychopath, what would you do at this moment?"

"I never made plans to escape." I replied shortly. "I never expected you to be one. I would never have truly left; I don't think I could have."

"Well you would be a fool not to try and escape."

"But you are not evil, you are not cruel. And so it is fine that I am here."

"You did not prepare for the eventuality that I may have been though." He countered. "You were being idealistic and it is lucky for you that I am not any of those things."

I sighed. "You're right, I am idealistic but as long as you are telling the truth – and I do not doubt that you are – no harm has come from it."

"So you are comfortable with the fact that I kill people?" He tried.

"But there are many others who kill people and they do not do it with the same intentions as the Assassin's." I argued.

"Indeed, but there are also many others who have _never _before tainted their hands with someone's blood. There are many other people less morally ambiguous than I."

"You are really not fighting your cause here.,." I grumbled.

"I am simply being realistic." He replied.

I stopped and mulled over my answer. "I do not think you are morally ambiguous." I began softly. "You have killed people but you kill people that make life misery for people below them; People who do nothing to benefit those that they rule. It is true, there are people purer than you but at least you fight for what you believe in."

"And what if what we believe in is wrong?"

"Only you can decide that. People must have faith that the Assassin's will decide their targets objectively and without their heart getting in the way. I cannot imagine that personal opinions would have anything to do with being an Assassin."

"You sound like my old Master." Altaïr said derisively. His disgust was not aimed at me though.

"Then I cannot be far wrong, can I?"

"Everything you say is true; I just wanted to see what you believed. And you are refreshingly level headed." He smiled for the first time since the conversation began. "I am relieved, to say the least." He sighed. "I just don't want you to be uncomfortable in my presence."

"You seem to think you are bad but there are so many people far worse than you." I said, not sure whether this was the right track to take to try and alleviate his worries.

"Like the people who did this to me," I continued, "They are far worse than you. They are cruel and sadistic and draw pleasure from others pain. That is nothing like you."

His hand began to move again, rubbing the cooling ground ivy into my skin while I spoke.

"And people in cities who murder others for nothing more than a few gold coins."

He made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and quickly wiped his hands on my pile of destroyed green tunic. I scowled slightly. I_ liked_ that tunic.

"Okay Asra, you're going to have to sit up and remove the blanket."

I sat up but clutched it closer to my chest. "Ha. Ha. I think not." I said sarcastically.

"I need to get the bandages on." He stated matter-of-factly.

"Can't I do it myself?

"You won't be able to do it." He said pointedly. "I've tried before and it is impossible to wrap up your own back without making a terrible job of it." He concluded, his lips twitching as I turned my head back to glare at him.

"Okay fine." I snapped, "But it you dare look then I will not hesitate to kick you where I've heard it hurts rather a lot."

"I'll make sure my eyes don't wander. On my honour as a gentleman." He replied, his voice becoming exaggeratedly solemn.

"Good." I huffed. I gingerly raised my arms and let go of the blanket as he handed me the first part of the bandage to start on my chest, then he wrapped it around and we took it in turns to hand it to one another until my back was completely bound from directly under my arms to the bottom of my spine.

"You get more waif-like every time I see you." He commented, eyeing my small, bandaged encased waist.

"Well, you would look the same if you hadn't eaten for four days." I countered, the sudden reminder making my stomach growl painfully.

"Four days? That bastard didn't even feed you?!"

"No, he wanted to try and starve me into submission." I replied, holding my arms around my abdomen. The hunger was actual physical pain now.

"Ha, and you think that I'm not the kind of person to draw pleasure from other peoples suffering. I would have liked nothing more than to cut off his limbs one by one until he begged me to die ." He growled angrily, jumping and flitting to an adjoining room.

I looked up above me and saw the sky again through the large hole in the roof, party covered by some sort of heavy wooden trellis that was entwined with leaves. The sky was still a beautiful inky blue and the moon had become brighter as it sailed overhead.

Altaïr returned a few seconds later, his arms weighed down with bottles and loaves of bread. He sat down beside me and started to hand me pieces of flat bread and cheese with fruit and a bottle of wine. My stomach growled ravenously and I snatched up the bread and cheese and began eating like a barbarian.

"What's that?" I said after a few minutes, gesturing to the hole in the roof with the hand that wasn't laden with food.

"That's the main entrance." He replied as he stretched out beside me and casually popped pieces of bread into his mouth.

"Oh." I replied before casting my eyes down again and resuming the frantic stuffing of food into my mouth. I'd missed food.

* * *

_**Reikat **__I'm glad you've said that because I was a bit worried about that aspect of things. I've been reading up a lot about this period of time in preparation for writing this fic – I need to be accurate and I love history – but trying to find detailed information about specific torture is kinda hard! I thought it was about right too. Painful though…I'm like you…I felt it ___

_**Aeron20 **__Haha, I agree, no more pity! And wait and see…anything could happen… *my turn to evil laugh*_

_**MusicalSoul **__Yup…either really brave or really stupid…I probably would have made something up in such a situation :P Actually, no, maybe I wouldn't have done! The repercussions would have been evil. And yes. The commander is creepy._

_**Erica5 **__Yay for fast updates (*Psst* they're fast because I've already written up to chapter 21 and I only have to upload them….which is very naughty of me.) I did acknowledge your request but this chapter was already written by that point. But, I'll tell you this much… I did change a couple of things for you ;)_

_**Migido667 **__I hope you can sleep better now ;) I wouldn't want you to be missing out on that beauty sleep because of me. Glad you enjoyed it again! :D_

_**Elise **__That'll be a no then! He's not dead! YAY! *snuggles him close*_

_**Kakulukiam **__I'd like to think Altaïr wouldn't go to hell but let's face it, if there is one, he'll be burning in its fiery pits :D And thank you so much, I only hope it never bores you! Oh and don't worry, I hadn't even realised that you hadn't reviewed chapter 16._

_**Red Nightfall **__To be honest, I really wouldn't know what a Mary Sue was :P I haven't been on the fanfiction scene long enough to know all these terms…took me ages to discover what a lemon was..Hahahaha. -_- But I've that these Mary Sue's are ultimately 3v1L! (Evil) and so she be avoided at all costs so thank you, and I'm glad you think I've got the balance correct. And yeah totally. Asra PWNage. _

_**Ginger **__Thankyou so much! I'm really glad you like her and him for that matter. :D _

_**ShadowMasterSeek **__Ohhhh SMS you've made me smile like a Cheshire cat! :D Thank you so much for such a compliment, I really appreciate and please, please do try your hand at writing. I'm so happy I've inspired you. And don't worry, this story will be seen to the very end! _

_**Your Most Enjoyable Nightmare **__Thank you so much, it's so lovely of you to say something like that! And yes, you're right….took a little while though :D_

_**Gangstadolly **__Whehehe, I officially (and happily, and graciously…and everything 'ly') accept your 'A' Rating! Thankyou so much for such a prestigious title, it means a lot to me ^_^ And I'm totally going to get around to drawing you a picture of Altaïr the teddy bear. Yay!_


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

When finally my appetite was sated, I stretched out slowly and carefully, trying not to breathe too hard because I was well and truly bound into the bandages, completely flattening out my chest and crushing my lungs. Altaïr uncrossed his legs and got up, carrying the remnants of food back through the little doorway and taking the poultices with it.

The sky was still a dark blue and so Altaïr must have come for me a lot earlier in the night than I had originally thought. He sat back down next to me against the wall and pulled me gently into him, resting his cheek on my head. I wrapped my arms around his waist and closed my eyes.

We sat in silence for a few moments until I decided I needed to know a few things.

"Altaïr?" I said, raising my head ever so slightly to look at him.

"Hm?" He replied. His eyes were still closed and I could tell that he was getting sleepy.

"Where was I? And more to the point, how did you fine me?"

"You were held in the Merchant King's Palace." He replied steadily.

"But I thought that used to belong to Abu'l Nuquod?"

"It did. But he has been dead for a while and so the Commander of the Damascus guard claimed it as his own and used it as his stronghold."

"So how did you find me?" I said quietly.

"After I jumped off the tower, I followed the current down until I was out of the main city. I removed all my obvious clothes and weaponry, hiding them beneath the pile of hay where Maysaa and Khalil are – They're fine by the way –," he added quickly, "…so I wouldn't be recognised. Then I went back through the gates and spent the next six hours searching the city for you. I didn't realise you had followed me so I went back to the place we'd been when the guards first started chasing me. I spent the whole day in talk with citizens and beggars, trying to found out if anyone had seen you." He sighed deeply and turned his head to kiss the top of mine.

"I did the same thing the next day but I checked every single inn I could find and all the courtyards and gardens but you were nowhere to be found. I was also trying to find the guards who'd chased me at the same time but they seemed to have disappeared. By the third day, I started to thing you may not want to be found." He said sadly. My heart twisted as he spoke and I raised my head to kiss his cheek and jaw.

"Why would you think that?" I whispered.

"I thought that, having learnt what I truly was, you would no longer want to be in my presence. I thought you'd run away." He finished gravely.

"Never." I said indignantly.

"Exactly, it appeared that you couldn't have, even if you wanted to, because on the morning of the fourth day of your absence, I heard a group of guards talking amongst themselves. They were speaking of a young woman that a man named Seif al Dinhad pulled off the streets and was holding in the Merchant King's Palace with him.

"I don't know why I thought it might be you, the description was so damned vague but I returned here and talked to Nasih about the man who now resided in the Palace. He told me it was none other than the leader of the Damascus Forces and the likely hood that it was you got slightly stronger. I had a hunch that they may have noted that you had been with me and so would want to question you about where I was. You saw how hotly I was pursued, they wanted me badly. But after I'd heard them speaking, I spent the rest of the morning re-checking the Merchant King's Palace in case anything had changed."

"What do you mean, 'in case anything had changed'?" I repeated.

"I've been there before, when I assassinated Abu'l Nuquod."

"YOU assassinated him?" I cried incredulously, my voice jumping up higher than normal.

"Does that bother you?" He asked levelly, his eyes roving my face for signs of fear or disgust.

"Well no, he was a vile man from what I'd heard…but…I suppose I'm just surprised, when you hear that people have been assassinated, you never think it was done by someone close to you. I think I'm still absorbing the onslaught on information I've had in the past few days." I stammered, my voice returning to usual pitch.

"I understand." He said softly, "But I've assassinated many others who you've probably heard of, many of the majour figures in the third crusade died by my blade."

"Hmm." I mumbled unintelligibly, taking in this confession without having to use my voice in case it gave my surprise – Is that really the right word? – away. "Please continue." I said quietly, pressing my head back into his shoulder.

"So, yes. I spent that day checking for ways I could get into the building without drawing attention to myself. I finally found a weak spot in their defence –it was otherwise very heavily guarded- where I could climb in fairly easily. Obviously, with them thinking they'd killed me, they didn't expect anyone to be able to climb and jump in through the sun roof."

"So that night, I entered through the roof and checked as many rooms as I could because I hadn't been able to learn the commander's exact position in the Palace. After I'd heard that group of guards talking, I never saw them again and there was no time for interrogation, so I was fairly blind in that respect. I clashed with a few guards but I told the rest of them and the servants to run. There was one girl though who stayed behind and told me exactly where you were. I can never be more grateful to her."

"Was she dark skinned and spoke Arabic with an accent?" I piped up, remembering the kind natured girl who had served me water.

"The very same." Altaïr replied.

Admiration welled up inside me and I thanked the young nameless girl for her help.

"And so I ran to exactly where she told me and killed that whore-son half asleep in his bed."

I looked at him disapprovingly, both for his sudden blood lust and his foul language.

"Sorry." He replied swiftly, seeing my expression and grinning sheepishly. "But the rest you know." He finished.

"Thankyou." I breathed.

"For what?" He replied.

"For not giving up and continuing to look for me."

"I would never have given up. Even if you had never wanted to see me again I would make sure I found you, just to know that you were safe and so I could call for Malik to take you the rest of the way."

I'd cried more in the last four days than I had ever done in my whole entire life, but still, more tears rolled silently down my cheek.

He brushed them away would this finger. "Don't cry." He said softly.

I couldn't stop the tears once they had begun to fall.

"The damsel in distress isn't meant to cry _after_ her gallant hero has come to rescue her." He chided, the corner of his lips turned up as he brushed the stray tears off my cheek again.

I gave a small choked laugh and grinned at him, rubbing my eyes vigorously to try and wipe away the tears. He was right; there was no reason to cry. I had him back with me and that was all that mattered. He tipped my chin and and kissed me deeply, his left arm still around my shoulders as I held his hand against my chest. Suddenly, another question shot through my mind and I broke away, holding my lips an inch from his.

"Your finger." I whispered. I pulled his left arm away from around my shoulder and held his hand in both of my own, examining it with renewed interest.

"Why do you have no ring finger?" I said quietly, my face still close to his.

"It's part of the initiation process of an Assassin. When we become skilled enough, our ring finger is removed as a sign that we are ready to wield the hidden blade."

"That's….slightly barbaric…." I replied.

"Well, it's not exactly comfortable but it's less barbaric than digging holes in your finger every time you release the blade, which is what would happen if it was still there." He laughed quietly.

Suddenly, a revelation dawned on me.

"Malik." I said quickly, the letters tumbling into each other as I tried to speak.

"What about him?"

"He's an Assassin too isn't he?"

_Of course he was you fool!_ I thought angrily to myself. How could I not have realised up until that moment?

"Yes." He replied, his voice taking on a more serious note.

Even though I knew the answer – I'd always known the answer – it still came as a surprise to hear it so affirmatively. I don't know how I could have forgotten that Malik never had a ring finger. It all came flooding back to me. I'd been fourteen when I remember him coming to my house one afternoon with a bloody bandage around his left hand and then a few days later with a partly healed stump. He'd always been vague in answering how he'd sustained such an injury. How could I have forgotten that? I sighed angrily at myself under my breath. People always said dreams were a representation of your subconscious which is no doubt why I had had that particular dream. Although, I suppose the loss of his finger had been eclipsed by the loss of his whole arm. That of course was something I couldn't forget.

"But he's not anymore is he?" I continued, "He hasn't got his left arm and he can't use the hidden blade like you."

It wasn't so much a question as a statement; everything that I subconsciously knew was rushing to the forefront of my mind again, waiting for me to pick them up and piece them into the story forming in front of my eyes.

A look of something akin to guilt and pain suddenly flitted across his face. He quickly recovered and looked at me. "You're right." He said softly. "He works as the Bureau Leader in Jerusalem now."

"Ah." I said with a twinge of realisation, "So _that's_ why was able to visit me almost every day."

"Indeed. But please don't feel angry at him that you didn't know this before. You're still his beloved cousin and this was the only secret that he could tell no-one." He sounded on edge; as if he expected me to jump up at any minute and scream like a banshee as I ran away in disgust.

"It's okay. I understand." I replied softly. I surprisingly enough, I did. I felt no anger towards Altaïr or Malik, even though they had kept things from me. I could hardly blame them for trying to keep a secret like this. This was a dangerous occupation to say the least and other people knowing would put them further at risk.

Altaïr briefly broke apart and stretched out again beside me, his head resting on a cushion by my crossed legs. His eyes were closed and his hands rested languidly on his stomach. I looked at him and could feel my expression softening almost immediately. I suddenly felt my eyelids droop and the exhaustion of the past few days dragged me down. I tried to lie on my side but the pain was too much.

"What's wrong?" Altaïr said quickly, as he propped himself up by his elbow and looked at me, his eyebrows drawn in concern.

"I can't lie down like normal." I grimaced, my back stabbing with pain with every movement.

"Lie on your front." He said quickly, adjusting the blankets beside him so they were flat. I tentatively lowered myself down and rested my head on the backs of my hands. It was far more comfortable this way.

"Are you okay?" He asked, lowering a blanket lightly over me.

"Mmm." I replied sleepily.

He smiled and lay down next to me on his side, brushing the hair behind my ears absentmindedly and caressing my neck. It was so relaxing that I barely had the motivation to open one eye to look at him. He made to move slightly away to give me space but I gripped his hand, my eyes still closed.

"No you don't." I mumbled and I heard him laugh under his breath and lie down closer, readily bending to my immense will. I fell asleep with him lying on his back beside me, his left hand still locked in my own, and listening to our gentle breathing and the sound of water as it trickled down the fountain.

* * *

_Ahh my goodness gracious me, have I ever told you guys how much I love you!? Thank you so much for the reviews and the favourites, it really makes my day and it's really great, every time I read a review I'm like, "RIGHT! Minnie, time for more writing!" And I shimmy on down to the start menu to click on 'Microsoft word 2007'. It gets me even more motivated, and because I'm steaming ahead with the chapters (Chapter 21 was fully completed and proof read 56 billion times and chapter 22 has just been started. I also have a tendency to write whatever the hell comes to me at the time so at the moment, there are various outlines for future chapters) I'll be finished in no time!_

_And also, some of my lovely readers (That's you guys) have expressed concerns that I may not complete this story…now does that seriously happen? Before this fic, I'd never visited the site, I just knew it existed so I don't know the protocol. I find it hard to believe people wouldn't want to finish their stories! Not even counting how irritating that must be for readers! I just want you guys to know that I've never once thought of not finishing this story, we will be seeing it through to the bitter end my friends! I will ask your forgiveness though if , by chance, I accidentally trip and fall into a manhole and am forced to live my life underground rifling through sewage without any broadband and am hence unable to continue the story. Although that is a highly unlikely scenario…I just want to cover all my bases._

_Oh, and I'm leaving for France tomorrow (At like 8 in the morning. Which means I have to get up at 6am. Which means I should really already be sleeping…. shrugs) so no updates for a week or so, the usual really! ;)_

_**Reikat **I would love to give you the credit for that but unfortunately, that line was already in place before your review! I actually though it was really awesome that you used the same line that I had done :P And thank you for your help with this, I did quite a bit more research after I read your review I am a torture queen now. Oooh yeah. The medieval were seriously screwed up, let me tell you._

_**Erica5 **I'm trying to think of a suitable theme tune for Altaïr…. I've got to admit, haven't got much to go one yet… But, in other news, I'm so glad you were happy with it; I'm always up for little requests ;)_

_**MusicalSoul **Yeah, we all know he wasn't dead. That would just be so awesome-less. I'm glad that your heart was warmed, mine was too ;)_

_**Migido667 **And every chapter, my ego gets another boost! Thank you so much my love ;) Sleep easy now!_

_**Xostormy **That's okay! Hope you enjoyed your holiday :D And xostormy, I love you forever and ever for that comment! I mean, okay, 200 dollars would be pushing it but I get your meaning! watery eyes_

_**Ginger **I'm sure you're right, he'd probably blow a blood vessel or something. I see Malik as having a shorter fuse :P And actually, you're right about the no alcohol thing, and although I didn't think of it at the time, I don't see many of the Hashashin as being religious and to me, Nasih seems like a pretty casual Muslim :P_

_**Your Most Enjoyable Nightmare **Ooh, YMEN! (I feel like calling you 'Yemmi'…) I looove youuu! But don't worry; I won't make you kill anybody (You can't get internet in prison) although it is a tempting offer ;) What could we bribe them with? And actually, thinking about it, I don't actually think I've ever written a disclaimer!? Should I?! And you'll find out soon enough_

_**Silk Yuzu **Hehe, I really like that line too. Always up for a bit of flirtatious banter ;) And I laughed so hard at the 'I IZ FROM THE FUTURE' line, I almost squirted water out my nose (Not attractive). It's quite true! Although, to be honest, when you see a romance story that has an original character, you know that they're going to be the love interest but I'm just really glad that you think I've pulled it off. And I'll look forward to your future reviews :D_

_**Elise and Emmy **Haha, thanks guys and I'm sure a scene such as the one previously written will crop up sooner or later! ;)_

_**Lupis Noctis **Thankyou! Don't worry, even though this update took ages in coming, everything else should be quicker!_

_**DetectiveTective **I would love to read your story, I'm going to shimmy on down there just after I've uploaded this chapter! (Which is kind of weird because by the time you read this, of course I'll already have uploaded it and so..yeah...its like in the future or something! (I'm not making any sense) (Ah well)_


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

I woke blearily to the sound of an embarrassed cough from above me and opened one eye to see Nasih eyeing the two of us lying in a heap on the ground. I surveyed our bodies to see what looks so improper and noticed that I had wrapped my leg around Altaïr's at some point in the night. I quickly pulled it away and stood up as quickly as I could. Which, given the circumstances was not at all quick and ended up with Nasih having to help me up.

"I'm sorry Nasih." I said hastily, my head still blurry with exhaustion, "And I would like to thank you for your hospitality." It appeared to be the right thing to say and Nasih half smiled, eyeing Altaïr amusedly on the floor as he lay on his back, still very much sleep. He briefly looked up to me but averted his eyes at the last minute, as if he had seen something he shouldn't have.

"It is quite alright… Asra was it?" He intonated.

I nodded briskly.

"Any friend of Altaïr is a friend of ours." He continued kindly but I did not miss the minute pause as he said 'friend'. I blushed furiously and nodded my head instead, hoping it would suffice.

"I shall leave you to sleep a while longer then. Sorry I disturbed you." Nasih said, and bowed his head graciously as he strode out the door. My face burned for a while longer as I contemplated how bad a scene he walked in on.

I was very much awake now though and noticed that the sky outside was light blue and birds squawked nosily overhead. I yawned and stretched before lowering myself back onto the floor on my chest. Altaïr's head was inches away from me and I could see every detail of his beautiful face. He had lovely long eyelashes that were pressed gently closed and his eyebrows were perfectly relaxed as he slept. His hair was still very short but it still suited him well.

He did have distinctly European features, like the line of his nose and his jaw and I thought back to when he'd told me of his sketchy parenthood; his father being English and his mother, Arabic. He was only covered by his thin grey kameez and I could faintly see the muscle definition on his chest as it rose and fell in time with his breathing.

I heaved a contented sigh and wondered when in my life I did something so good as to deserve Altaïr. He must have subconsciously felt my scrutiny as his eyelids suddenly fluttered sleepily open and his dark brown eyes focused on my face.

"What are you doing?" He mumbled.

"Watching you sleep." I said with a grin.

"Good job _that_ isn't neurotic." He grinned, his lips turning up into a sleepy smile. I smiled and leaned over to him to kiss the side of his mouth.

"Asra." He said, his voice barely concealing his mirth as I felt the side of his lips move under mine.

"Hm?" I replied absent mindedly.

"Your bandages have come loose."

I quickly sat up and looked down, noticing that the bandages had begun to unravel at the top, exposing more of me than I would have liked.

I adjusted them shamefaced and then punched Altaïr in the arm as hard as I could. It hurt me more than it hurt him for sure: too much back movement.

"What was that for!?" He cried in mock horror, rubbing his arm.

"For looking." I sniffed.

"So I'm not even allowed to admire anymore?" He said seductively, bringing his face closer to mine and whispering in my ear, tickling my face. I felt my defences melting rather spectacularly in an instant. No-one had ever had a hold over me like Altaïr does. He was a very dangerous man.

I settled for an all encompassing, "hmph," before standing up again and picking up my pile of destroyed green tunic of the floor. It took me longer than I expected as bending down had become a very precise art.

Altaïr got up off the floor and stretched, yawning as he turned around to hug me good morning. I hugged him weakly back because I couldn't exert much effort from my upper body but he gently laid his hands as low down as he could get away with, without touching my back or incurring my wrath.

The feeling of having someone back who you had resigned yourself to losing is very strange. It doesn't quite feel real and Altaïr's 'resurrection' had been so unexpected and so sudden that I feared I may still be hallucinating from hunger, pain and fever back in that tiny cell.

As if he felt like he needed to reiterate the fact that he was truly real, he bent down to kiss me. His soft lips pressed gently against mine, as if he feared that he would break me but I did not respond well to being seen as fragile and so I kissed him harder, to which he responded with renewed vigour. He has his back against the wall as I kissed his neck; my knowledge of his realness becoming clearer by the second and the joy welling up inside me, dispelling the last few days' worth of fear and grief in mere seconds.

His neck was rough with a day's worth of stubble but I liked the feel of it upon my lips as I drew them across his throat, teasingly.

Just as it was about to get even better, an embarrassed shout and a tumultuous crashing sound made Altaïr jerk up surprised. I cursed the interruption and steadied my breathing as I turned around to see what had made the sound.

Nasih was lying in a heap on the ground, three ceramic bowls and a tray lying broken on the floor beside him. Altaïr suppressed a laugh and walked over to lend a hand.

"No, no!" Nasih stammered, "Please go back to…uh….what you were doing…-" My face felt hot suddenly. I was turning into quite the heater. "…- I didn't mean to…uh…_interrupt you_." He mumbled swiftly, jumping up off the floor and busying himself with the mess of china around him.

"Quite alright Nasih." Altaïr replied good humouredly, and bent down to assist Nasih who was in the midst of guffaws of manly humour. Altair merely grinned, completely un-phased while I sported an extremely red face and a shamed demeanour. Nasih had walked in twice now on inappropriate things. Oh, and he'd seen most of my chest.

_Hooray_, I grumbled embarrassedly as Nasih shuffled out with his broken tray.

"I'll be back with some more in a moment." He explained, slightly more solemn now. And in no more than a few seconds, he was back in the room with new bowls, filled to the brim with fragrant tea. A wayward grin was still unintentionally plastered on his face as he graciously handed a bowl to both of us before taking a deep drink himself.

"I'm sorry I was forced to interrupt you." He began, cupping the bowl in between his large hands. "But I thought it best to be awake and alert; the city is in uproar over the death of a certain Seif al Din al-Jamil ibn Abdulazziz." He explained, looking up exasperatedly at Altaïr from his tea.

Altaïr's face showed no hint of remorse. "I did what I had to. I'm sorry it caused a problem."

Nasih sighed exaggeratedly. "Oh, Altaïr. No you're not." He said, rolling his eyes and lifting the cup to his lips again. Altaïr's lips twitched but he said no more.

The tea tasted divine; spicy and tangy on the lips but deliciously fulfilling. I'd have to find out what this stuff was called. I drank deeply to avoid speaking, preferring to listen and to glean as much information as possible.

"Never the matter though. It is not important now." Nasih said dismissively. "It would be best not to leave the bureau, or at least to be very cautious if you do. They will not find us here but it is still wise to be on your guard."

Altaïr nodded once and put his cup back on the tray, thanking Nasih and announcing his intention to bathe. I remained sipping from the cup while an awkward silence presented itself between Nasih and I.

"I feel like I know you from somewhere Asra. You have a very distinctive face." Nasih said simply.

I wasn't quite sure what to make of that comment. Was it a compliment? I decided to follow the safe route.

"Maybe it is because I look quite a bit like my cousin." I offered, placing my now emptied cup back on the tray.

"And who is that?" He asked interestedly.

"Malik Al-Sayf. I assume you know him?"

His eyes widened in surprise. "Indeed I do. Now that _does_ make more sense. There is a distinct family resemblance." He replied approvingly, replacing his cup back on the tray and wordlessly picking it up before swiftly moving into the next room.

I wasn't quite sure whether that meant he thought I looked like a man.

I stood up gingerly and stretched my arms and legs as much as possible before cautiously following Nasih through the doorway.

"Is it alright if I have a look?" I called softly as I waited hesitantly by the doorframe.

"I don't see any reason why not. You know enough anyway." He replied amicably enough, and I padded through into the room.

Directly to the right of the entrance was a wide counter, every square inch covered with hundreds of papers and maps strewn across it. The wall behind it was covered in shelves housing more scripts, books, pots and jars of every description. The room was bright and light but didn't have any windows; safety before sunlight. Opposite the counter was a huge array of _everything_.

There were weapons by the dozens attached to the wall and resting on stands, and shelves filled with little jars of herbs much like in the apothecary we visited in Phasaelis. Nasih had disappeared through yet another doorway but I stayed fixed to the spot, amazed at the odd beauty of this room. There was a thick carpet on the floor and my bare feet felt warm as I stood on it, staring at the walls around me and at the two large beds covered in plush cushions and throws that I'd just noticed in the corner. This place was startlingly well equipped and far larger than I had first thought. Opposite where I was standing, there were two open, arched entrances. Through one, I thought there must be a pantry or food stall of some kind because Nasih had just disappeared into it.

I walked further into the room and peeked my head around the door Nasih had gone through. Sure enough, he was striding around the large room, placing the cups and trays into a big bucket of water and humming to himself tunelessly.

"What's next door Nasih?" I asked quietly.

"The bath." He replied, without looking up.

"Ah, right." I replied, incredibly thankful that I had thought to ask before I walked in, seeing as Altaïr was in there at the moment. I walked back through the two rooms and sat down on the cushions again, close to the aerial entrance to the bureau, waiting until Altaïr had finished his bath. I was in dire need of one myself. I felt dirty and disgusting from being held in that cell but with the bandages on and the wound on my back, I most certainly wasn't going to be able to bathe anytime soon.

Having finished the washing, Nasih came striding back through the doorway, smiled at me and then walked behind the large counter strewn with books, papers and maps and busied himself with studying a large map that he'd placed over the rest of the debris, with rocks and other random paraphernalia at each corner to prevent it from rolling up again.

I sat with my legs crossed and for want of something better to do, started picking at the bandages on my arm. I got bored with that very quickly and wished I could speak to Malik, for I hadn't seen him for so long and that hadn't happened since I was quite a bit younger.

I'd always seen him almost every day when I'd lived in Jerusalem. We were more like siblings than just cousins, especially after Malik's own brother, Kadar, had died. That had been a very dark period in Malik's life and even though I was never as close to Kadar as as I had Malik, I missed him sorely. I'd never been told how he died and I didn't want to make Malik talk about it as he was distraught, and so it remained a mystery to me.

I heaved a sigh – well, tried to, but ended up gritting my teeth in pain as it meant too much back movement – and stood up slowly, just as Altaïr came back through the doorway. I blinked in shock at his attire. He wasn't wearing his robes like normal and he didn't even have any of his weapons on him, he was dressed in a deep red, knee length tunic that clung to his body with a cord around his waist. He had a different pair of shalwars on; these were off-white and were stuffed into his normal brown leather boots – which I could see still had a throng of throwing knives attached to them. The edges of his tunic and his sleeves were decorated with an intricate design in gold thread and there was a gold button that kept the tunic together near his collarbone. One sleeve was loose but the other had been rolled up and clasped firmly to the contours of his wrist with a gold band. His left sleeve to be precise.

He laughed at my stunned expression and strode towards me.

"How are you feeling?" He asked gently, touching my face. I could feel the blood suddenly rushing to my cheeks and I wished he wouldn't do it in front of Nasih.

"Uh, fine thank you, still in pain but more importantly…what are you wearing?" I said, looking at him quizzically.

"You don't like it?" He asked, looking down and surveying his appearance.

"No, no, I think you look good but why are you wearing it?"

"Would _you_ go out in those robes when every guard from here to Jerusalem had seen you wearing them only a few days before?" He replied, the corners of his lips turned up in a smirk.

"I suppose not. But where are you going?" I didn't particularly want to be left alone with Nasih. I wasn't very good with conversation.

"I need to observe the measures the Damascus Guards are taking against… well, me, I suppose." He replied, his voice still taking on a calming quality as if he still had a niggling doubt that I had accepted what he was.

I nodded and smiled encouragingly as he turned around and suddenly launched up the fountain, grasping easily onto its protrusions and levering himself up and over the roof as nimbly as a cat. I smirked to myself and went to sit down in the blankets, eyeing Nasih out of the corner of my eye to see what he was doing; he was still pouring over the map and so I deemed it polite enough not to talk to him. I lay down gently on my front and closed my eyes, barely fighting a wave of tiredness that descended over me. I realised that it had been far too early to awaken when I had done and so I allowed myself to sleep. At least that way I wouldn't have to force conversation with Nasih. Nice as he was, I was too tired for that.

* * *

I woke up to the sound of low, hushed voices but didn't open my eyes; instead I stayed there on the floor and listened. One might call it eavesdropping; however I preferred to think of it as an 'overheard conversation.'

"Altaïr, the election is but a few days away, just over a week at most, and you should hear what the citizens are saying. They hate the man. He can't be allowed to rule. You know as well as I that he is a halfwit. Let him take the crown and he will surely follow it with the whole kingdom." Nasih grumbled.

Altaïr didn't say anything and so Nasih continued on.

"You killed his father so why not take his son as well?"

"Do not speak of it like that." Altaïr cut in, "The only reason I took the blood of William was because of that traitorous bastard Al Mualim and you know it. If Al Mualim hadn't wanted all his competition killed then Montferrat would not be dead."

My stomach had squirmed uncomfortably at the word 'killed'. I loved Altaïr but I would be lying to myself if I said I was comfortable with the idea of what he did. I knew he was a good man but he was also a trained killer and that scared me slightly. I suppose I would have to work on it.

"You are right but that does not change the fact that Conrad is an idiot!" Nasih retorted, his voice a harsh whisper.

"Still, is that a sin worthy of his death?" Altaïr parried, just as fast.

"I think in this case. Yes."

Altaïr heaved a resigned sigh. "You may be right. We shall see how Malik feels; he is no doubt following this as closely as I am."

"Indeed." Nasih finished, and I heard his footsteps as he walked away.

I took Nasih's departure as an opportune moment to inform Altaïr of my alertness.

"How is it out there?" I asked, levering myself up to an awkward sitting position.

"Chaotic. The place is crawling with soldiers; even an army of templar's. I haven't seen such a large group since last year." He replied. "I'd wondered where they'd scuttled off too." He muttered under his breath.

"Sounds bad." I replied, rather unhelpfully.

"It is, but nothing I cannot handle. Now let's look at your back."

He came around behind me and crouched down, sliding a throwing knife carefully out of the holder on his boot and cutting down the length of the bandages. Unfortunately, they'd stuck to my wounds and Altaïr had to peel them off while I just closed my eyes and tried to blank out the pain.

"That's going to scar." He sighed, while wrapping up the used bandage and handing me a blanket to cover myself with while he got up and ran to the next room for the salve and more bandages.

"I'd guessed as much." I replied sombrely. "Ah well, it's not like I can see my back anyway." I finished brightly. Altaïr chuckled quietly and smeared more crushed ground-ivy gently onto my back before wrapping it up tightly like he had done last night. I regally held out my hands to him, silently ordering him to help me and smiling cheerfully as he obliged. I adjusted my thin shalwars and tried to bend down to roll up the bottoms so I wouldn't trip over as I walked but I was bound too tightly and decided it was too much of an effort.

"Be a dear Altaïr and roll up my shalwars for me, would you?" I said sweetly, barely containing my wide grin as I grabbed the fabric on Altaïr's left shoulder and hoisted my leg up into his outstretched arms. He was stunned and almost didn't catch it but his lighting quick reflexes gripped onto it through instinct before I almost fell over.

"What did your last slave die of?" He replied incredulously, as he struggled to roll up my shalwars with only one hand; the other one gripping onto my ankle. I dropped my leg lightly to the floor when he'd finished and raised my other one, grinning at him from the corner of my eyes to show I was only joking, while trying to look refined as well, as I gripped onto his shoulder.

"I can't believe I'm doing this. You're injured not a complete invalid." He muttered as he let my ankle go gently.

"Thank you very much. You may go now if you wish." I said, waving my hand in the direction of the door with a sniff.

"I'm content to stay." He replied, his lips moving on mine as he spoke and his fingers working circles behind my head, his hands clasped around my throat. It felt exquisite. However, Nasih had the potential to walk in again and I didn't think I could face another such interruption, so I pushed him away.

He looked at me accusingly.

"There'd better be a very good reason as to why we had to stop. I was greatly enjoying myself."

"As was I, but Nasih is here!" I whispered urgently.

"So?" He replied, his lips already brushing against my neck.

"So," I gasped, "He might see!"

"Let him." He replied simply as he ascended purposefully to my lips and seized them under his.

"Ugh Altaïr." I mumbled half-heartedly, "Stop! This is paramount to assault!"

He chuckled at that and broke away.

"Well, when you put it like that…" He whispered with a smile, leaving the rest of his sentence to ponder over.

Nasih came back around and I surreptitiously moved further away from Altaïr. He packed a few things into a small bag and turned to us both, but directed his speech to Altaïr.

"Altaïr. I'm putting you in charge while I'm gone. I don't often get a chance to leave so consider this my day off. If anyone comes in, which I doubt they will; then inform me when I return and help them to the best of your knowledge."

"As you wish Nasih." Altaïr replied, inclining his head politely. Nasih nodded once and walked past us to the fountain before darting up it almost as quickly as Altaïr had and swinging up onto the roof.

"What _does_ happen if anyone comes in?" I asked.

"They'll probably fail their mission." He joked. "I'm nowhere near as good as Nasih."

"I'm sure you're just being modest." I replied. I re-arranged the cushions and blankets into a pile with my feet and sat down cross legged next to the wall. (Not resting on it though because that was just painful.) Altaïr came to sit beside me and I decided resolutely that I _was_ going to know about his past no matter how much he winged or avoided it. Besides, he had no reason to hide anything from me now; I already knew arguably his biggest and most important secret. Anything else would just be drop from what I had already discovered.

"Altaïr, I want to know everything. About your family and your parents and how you came to be an Assassin."

He sighed deeply. "I knew that was coming sooner or later…."

* * *

_Hooray! Back from France! I didn't have an internet connection and it almost killed me! But I'm back and raring to go. On with the uploads! Oh, and thank you for all who wished me a good trip! It was really nice; I spent the week on a farm feeding a goat called George. He was awesome. He'd climb all over the gate like a cat when you brought him food and of course, he'd eat anything. _

_**SilkYuzu **__Hehe, how do I do it? Easy. It's how I'd like to be with someone! And my imagination is wild; it all helps. But thank you very much and yeah, I imagine him to be the angry sweary type. _

_**LupisNoctis**__ I'm really glad you feel that way, especially as many think he's smacking the OOC line (I don't actually blame them) so thank you._

_**Reikat **__Ahh, I see. Well, great information nonetheless! _

_**Erica5 **__Thank you! I feel that way too. I know he's wonderful underneath his harsher exterior. _

_**YourMostEnjoyableNightmare **__Haha, I don't actually know why Yemmi sprung to mind…it just kind of did! But to be honest, your full user name is cooler :D Hmm…I've never run into people like that…(I must be the lucky one) why would they even bother coming onto if they think like that!? Pretty much every single story here encroaches in some way upon some sort of copyright. Meh. Silly people. Thanks for the offer of protection then! But so far, I don't need it. Whehe, you're so right. Only if you get caught. What an interesting way of thinking. But don't cry my dear Yemmi! Yes, one day, this story too will come to an end but it will be satisfying! I guarantee it!_

_**Elise **__She's a little strange?! Hehe, YOU'RE a little strange! (Only joking ;) You're awesome) And…ah…hehe, thanks for the advice! _

_**MusicalSoul **__Yay for updates! And yeah, I really liked that line too, while I was writing it :P_

_**Migido667 **__Hopefully the wait wasn't too long! And thank you :D_

_**Kraele and Bremon **__(Great name…what on earth is the meaning behind it?) I love new readers and I'm so glad you like it. Thank you very much, and yeah, I've done quite a bit of research but that's also because I love this period in time. The 12__th__ Century is fascinating to me and I love history. I'm also really glad you find Asra relatable because she's also quite a bit like me too. I didn't base her on me by any stretch of the imagination but she popped fully formed into my mind when I decided to write this story and inevitably, she shared a few of my traits. _

_**Kelsem **__Hehe, I'll try not to make the wait too long! hops up and down in time with you and I'm glad you like Asra._

_**ShadowMasterSeek **__Wow, what a complement! Thank you so much _


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

_This chapter contains themes that some people might find distressing. Maybe if you're really, really sensitive, this chapter isn't for you. But bear in mind that it is an integral part of my story and I don't think it should be missed. I just thought I had to put the disclaimer out there, just incase but to be honest, its not something I normally would write. Anyway, I'll shut up because I'm rolling away on a completely different tangent..._

* * *

"I suppose I should start with my childhood." He said softly. I stayed silent and waited. At last, he spoke:

"I was born in Hebron in 1167. Not really a small town outside of Jerusalem, like I told you the first time you asked. But that was only where I lived until the brotherhood took me; when I was seven. My mother was born in Jaffa, the city by the sea, in 1151. Her name was Kamilah. She was exiled to Hebron, by her parents – my grandparents – when she was only sixteen, after she was involved in a scandal far out of her control…"

* * *

"Kamilah!" Her mother called, "Kamilah!" She shouted again. Kamilah's mother was standing standing in the doorway her heavy skirts already concealing two small children; her sons, whom she had already managed to round up after threats of no dinner. Just as she was about to call again, she watched her eldest child come around the corner of the chicken hut.

"Come now child! How many times have I told you not to run off like that?" She scolded as Kamilah came sidling around the corner looking sheepish, her hair windblown but her intense brown eyes sparkling.

"You're almost seventeen! You are a lady and soon to be wed! It is not seemly to be running around with those small children." She said, cocking her head towards the crowd of children in question whose hands were covered and filth and whose faces were no better. They grinned from beneath their coating of mud and Kamilah gave them a quick wink and shooed them away before turning to her mother, her face demure.

"I'm sorry mother. I was only helping them to build their mud huts."

"Never mind what you were doing. Come inside and wash up before we eat." And with that she spun around and marched back into the house, almost tripping over her two small sons on the way in. Kamilah sighed and walked to the water trough at the side of the house, dipping her hands in and splashing some on her face to remove the mud that the children had managed to flick on her.

"Kamilah come on!" Came the impatient shout from inside the house.

"Coming mother!" She shouted, flicking her hands dry and walking around the side of the house.

Kamilah walked into the house to the smell of meat stew, one of her favourite dishes but not something her mother usually cooked due to the expense. Sayyid must be coming around tonight, Kamilah thought.

Sayyid was her betrothed; a man of higher status then her and the reason her mother was so happy and determined to impress. Kamilah's family wasn't poor; her father was a successful farmer and her mother an expert embroiderer but Sayyid family was far richer. Sayyid's father was one of the most successful merchants in Jaffa; renowned for his fine materials and spices that he traded between here and India. Normally Kamilah wouldn't have been of interest as a wife for a man such as Sayyid but her beauty had caught his eyes, as it had done many a man.

Kamilah was famed for her beauty, at least in the part of Jaffa in which they lived. People often joked and referred to her as 'Jewel' and because of this, to her parents, she was a valuable asset. Marriage proposals were never lacking for Kamilah and her parents had been holding out until such a man as Sayyid offered, refusing around ten marriage proposals already. They'd even kept her with them when other girls would have already been married for two years.

As Kamilah walked in and closed the door her mother barked at her to get changed.

"Sayyid won't be here until for another hour. Go and put your special outfit on. You know, the one with gold trim and your jewellery."

"Can't I just wear this mother?" She implored, pinching at the sides of her faded red shalwars. "I haven't got any mud on me anymore!"

"No! You must impress Sayyid, or else he'll retract his offer! Go child, go!"

"Fine." Kamilah sighed in defeat. She liked Sayyid and was sure he would still like her, even if she wasn't adorned with all the jewellery her mother insisted that she wore. She traipsed upstairs and changed, pulling on the turquoise tunic with gold trim that her mother had requested. Before she left her room, she pulled on some of her gold bangles, adjusted her rather intricate earrings and yanked a brush through her hair until her mahogany locks were gleaming like polished wood.

By the time she was done, her two brothers, Suhayl and Sami, were washed and decked out in their finest clothes, as was her mother, and the table had been laid with her mother's most excellent linen and best crockery. She tutted as she affectionately adjusted her brothers' sleeves and made sure they were both sitting down and not fidgeting before she walked up to her mother.

"Is it just Sayyid today mother?"

"Yes." Her mother turned from her pot to look at her daughter and smiled. "You look beautiful Kamilah."

"Thank you mother." Kamilah beamed proudly, before turning and sitting down to await the arrival of her guest and the return her father.

* * *

By the time the meal was over, the wedding had been arranged for next week. Kamilah was just glad the current ordeal was over. Normally she enjoyed Sayyid's company but his constant, barely concealed looks of lusts had made her her feel uncomfortable. It made her feel like the only reason the wedding was so soon was because he wanted the wedding night to come quicker. She felt quite sick at the idea. She wasn't looking forward to the wedding night. She didn't even want children and she didn't want to be used by men like some toy. Except that it was a woman's duty to do so, as her mother told her constantly. So much so that she almost thought it herself.

The more she thought about it, the worse she felt and her original nonchalant attitude about her impeding marriage quickly changed until the mere thought of marriage made her break into a sweat. As she lay in bed that night, she even dared to think about being able to choose her own husband. Such a luxury would be nice for a girl but her parents were traditional. They did everything by the book, except maybe the fact that they hadn't allowed Kamilah to be married at the age most girls were. But that was only because she was beautiful and they knew they could marry her off better if they waited.

Kamilah needed some fresh air. She was restless and felt queasy. All these thoughts of marriage were constricting her throat and making the night thicker and stuffier than usual. She decided to go to her special place; the hill. Well, it was special to her but to anyone else it was just a pile of dirt. It wasn't particularly pretty, nor even that high but it was surrounded by trees and close enough to the sea that all you could hear was the gentle swash of the sea and the distant, melodic call of the gull. She loved it there, even just for the isolation of it all. She could be alone and it was easier to think when there was nothing and no-one to distract you.

Her mother would maim her if she knew she was sneaking out but her mother wasn't the one getting married in less than a week! Kamilah carefully – with a skill gleaned from years of practise – lowered herself out onto the rickety ledge below her window and hopped gracefully onto the overhanging branch of her favourite climbing tree; quite conveniently placed just below her window for easy access. If her mother had known how easy it was for her to escape, she would have made her sleep in the cellar.

She cautiously and quietly sidestepped along the branch until she came to a point where it was only a metre or so off the ground, before dropping off onto the soft grass, crouching on impact. She swiftly dusted off her thin nightdress and allowed her eyes to sufficiently adjust to the darkness, before setting off down through her back fields towards the sea.

Finally, there was a break in the trees and she could see the broken tree stump that she always sat on and could already here the beautiful sounds of the ocean. She breathed a deep sigh of relief and slumped onto her natural seat, emotionally exhausted. She realised finally that she did not really want to marry Sayyid. She would of course, but her heart wasn't in it. He was nice and she was positive that she could learn to love him but she didn't feel that way now. He liked her; she knew that much but it was superficial. She could live with that though, she decided. It was better than no affection at all.

She was getting tired of justifying everything to herself but it was the easiest way to go about it. She breathed deeply and gazed up into the inky sky until her neck ached.

She sat there for almost an hour before she was rudely interrupted.

She jumped up startled to the sound of people bashing through the trees surrounding the little area she sat in. Two men came crashing through the underbrush and Kamilah cried out in shock, jumping back and putting as much distance in-between them as possible. She noticed with mild curiosity that neither of them were Arabic. They were both much paler than her and she could tell by the strange, sibilant sounds that came out of their mouths that they were English. It was strange to have English people here, Kamilah thought to herself. They never seemed to come over to Palestine unless it was to fight. She also felt intensely embarrassed. She hadn't expected to meet anyone and so she was still in her nightdress. It was ankle length and had sleeves but it was still her undergarments.

"What have we here?" The older man slurred to his younger counterpart, staring unfocusedly at the girl who was looking reproachful, in front of him. He knew he'd had too much to drink but the alcohol here was so much better than back in England. But the fact that this girl seemed to keep on moving was a bad sign. Although, his friend was almost as drunk.

"Looks like a women. You haven't seen one of those for years, have you Will?" Replied his comrade boisterously, slapping him on the shoulder and taking a swig from his flask.

"Mind your mouth, you whelp." He growled. "Respect your elders."

All the while, Kamilah had been staring at them in confusion, not understanding one garbled word that came from their mouths. She could tell they were both quite drunk and the combination of a foreign language and slight slurring made them positively baffling. She couldn't see much of their features in the light but the man with the gruffer voice was shorter and bulkier and sounded older while his taller counterpart was better spoken and leaner. They were both carrying flasks of their preferred beverage, taking swigs from them at regular intervals between exuberantly mangled sentences to one another.

Drunken men you didn't know where never good company and so she sighed exasperatedly – annoyed that her peace had been disrupted – and turned around to leave as discreetly as possible. She could find someplace else as she wasn't ready to go home quite yet.

"No wait!" Called out the younger man and she could hear him stumble slightly forward. She stopped with a start but it wasn't the shout that made her turn, but the fact that he'd spoken in Arabic to her. It wasn't well pronounced or even very well intonated but it was understandable and she was surprised that he knew even that much. She turned around almost as a reflex.

The man walked forward to her, while the older man sat down heavily next to a tree further away, still swigging merrily, looking as if he was about to nod off. The younger man was much more attractive close up, Kamilah decided. But she was still wary; she had no idea who he was and she got the feeling that he would take great offense if she ran off now. Not just mildly offended but the sort of offended that would make him chase after her. He seemed exceedingly charming on the outside but his eyes didn't seem to reflect that.

"Come join myself on here tree!" He said in mangled Arabic. She couldn't stop herself from giggling. His Arabic was just so bad. He seemed to take the fact that she laughed as a good sign and marched straight up to her grabbing her hand and forcing her to sit down next to him.

"What do you want?" She asked guardedly again, sitting as far enough away and silently judging how quickly she could jump off and run through the trees before he would follow. And she had no doubt that he would.

"Why suspicious? I simple want to talk." He replied, looking at her slightly hazily with his dark eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She estimated that he was around mid twenties.

"I'd rather not. I need to go now." She said politely, standing up slowly as if that would make him not notice.

"You stay." He said and the menace in his voice was suddenly apparent as he locked his vice like hand around her wrist and yanked her down. He was a violent drunk, she could tell and she was beginning to get slightly scared.

His tone changed again immediately. "You are very beautiful." He said appreciatively, his voice back to the almost pleasant, drunken lilt of before and his face only inches away from hers.

"Thank you." Kamilah replied cagily as she shuffled away, wringing her hands in her lap uncomfortably.

"Kiss me." He said suddenly and leant in towards her. Kamilah jumped away like she'd been burnt, scandalized at his proposition.

"Go away." She scathed, getting angry now.

"Come on!" He whinged, "Just one little kiss. You foreign women are normally compliant."

She wasn't sure whether his Arabic had actually improved or whether she was just hearing it in much more disturbing clarity, but he didn't seem to be muddling his words now. His words also angered her; his ignorant and chauvinistic slur on women was just so typical of English men. They treated their women almost as badly as Arabic men did.

"Leave me alone. How dare you even think such a thing." She whispered irately, her voice gaining new confidence.

"You are not a proper woman if you don't bend to the will of men!" He suddenly shouted, jumping up in anger, his fists balled up at his sides.

Kamilah was frightened now. He was already a nasty man and combined with alcohol, it made for a horrible combination. She began stepping slowly back, feeling threatened by his height 

and his attitude and his inebriation. He stepped purposefully towards her and kissed her hard, crushing her lips under his. She struggled against him but his hands were locked around her arms and kept her in his crushing grip.

"See? That wasn't so bad." He said, leering at her. "It would be so much better if you were willing. I don't like taking unwilling women but I will if you make me."

"What do you mean?" She breathed, already praying he would not touch her again. "I don't even know you!"

"I'm sure you're a whore, just like the rest of them." He replied, as if it was a stupid thing to say. "And anyway, I'm too drunk to care."

Kamilah suddenly became intensely angry and kicked him hard in the shins. How dare he call her such a thing! She almost darted out of his way but he grabbed a fistful of her hair and forced her back towards him. His nostrils were flaring in fury and his eyes were like ice that chilled her to the bone, even on such a muggy night. She could feel tears pricking her eyes because she knew he wasn't going to leave her alone.

"Just do as I say and everything will be so much more pleasant for you, don't you think?" He took another, long swig from his flask with one hand, while the other remained clamped around her wrist. He was very strong but she still tried straining against him.

"Why are you doing this?" She whimpered, straining against his hand.

"You're very beautiful." He replied simply.

He dropped his flask after drinking the last drops and slammed his hand into the side of Kamilah's face.

"Please do not move so much!" He asked, his voice almost sounding reasonable, but twisted with menace and sarcasm. He struck her once more in the stomach and she doubled over coughing, her thick hair still clutched in his large fist, straining against her scalp. He kicked the legs out from under her and she fell to the ground striking her head hard on the tree stump on the way down, causing her head to explode in pain and stars and making her vision blurry and distorted.

He let go of her hair and punched her a few more times in the stomach until he was sure she wouldn't be able to get up. Kamilah could feel herself on the verge of blacking out; like she was teetering on the edge of a precipice. She felt so sick; sick with fear and sick from the punches.

The last thing she fully remembered, and could bear to remember, was the young English man pulling her skirts up around her head.

* * *

When she woke up, it was still dark. Still black. And she was very much alone now. There was no longer the silence she enjoyed. It was deathly and cold; the sea sounded as if it was mourning and the gulls were crying; lamenting into the night. Kamilah was in pain; she couldn't move her legs and suddenly images flashed back into her mind with such force that she was violently sick in the bushes, her stomach struggling to cope.

She wiped her mouth with a shaky hand, tears streaming down her face as she began to uncontrollably shake. Her whole being shook with the horrific knowledge of what had happened to her. She felt violently ill; dirty. She was tainted. She was disgusting.

Her silent tears became large uncontrollable sobs and she suddenly felt claustrophobic. She needed to get out of here. She needed to get out of this horrible place.

She gripped tightly onto a tree branch and pulled herself up. An almost obsessive compulsion to smooth her nightdress caused her to spend five minutes flattening it down; brushing off mud and pressing out creases. It needed to be perfect; she needed to _feel _perfect.

She wanted to go home, she wanted to be safe in her bed and block off her mind where the memories couldn't get her, but she was spoiled. Her parents would blame her and she would never marry. Not Sayyid; not anyone.

She tried to walk but felt weak and dazed; her mind reeled and her lungs felt starved of oxygen. Her crying was making it hard to breathe. She took a few deep breaths and decided she wanted to go home. Disturbingly, she felt sick at the thought of looking her parents in the eye, knowing she was going to disappoint them when she was discovered to be damaged goods. But a glimmer of hope appeared, like a sudden spark between two rocks. Would Sayyid know? Does a man know when a woman has been used before? The shame of not being a virgin on ones wedding night was unspeakable and it dragged Kamilah down… but maybe _he_ wouldn't know. If he didn't know then at least she could suffer in silence.

She decided she would go home.

* * *

After Kamilah returned home, she'd acted as if nothing had happened; only succumbing to her anxiety and fear when she was alone. She'd married Sayyid after a week, in as lavish a ceremony as was to be expected, but one that she only survived by shutting down her mind. She had even let him take her to his room, despite how sick she felt and how greatly she wished to scream at him not to touch her. Even the presence of men mad her sick with fear. But he had known; he had beat her and screamed at her, calling her a voracious slut and had marched down the stairs to the wedding guests who waited below ,with Kamilah's arm in his vice like grip and told everyone present that Kamilah was not a virgin.

Even now Kamilah could remember the stunned silence that followed and the stares of a thousand eyes as they glared at her with such disapproving that her legs almost buckled.

Her parents had been the worst.

She remembered Sayyid and his father demanding that they be compensated for receiving goods that weren't intact. But there was something she hadn't realised would happen; that infidelity was punishable by death. Sayyid had demanded that Kamilah be killed. That she be stoned to death in Jaffa's public forum as an example to any other woman that may think about being unfaithful.

Kamilah remembered the crippling force of her fear when Sayyid had announced that, and even the fear in her mother's eyes. She wished to cry out; demand that they know she wasn't willing but instead she kept silent, her head hung in shame and embarrassment.

Sayyid had shoved Kamilah towards her side of the family and ordered her to be brought at the crack of dawn to the market, before he and his family had left, muttering to themselves in disgust. Kamilah's family had been left speechless and she could do nothing but be brought home by her parents and receive the full force of their verbal attack later that night. Her father had slapped her and her mother had cried. They seethed about the shame she had brought to them both and her family. Kamilah had done nothing but receive the brunt of their attacks in silence. Her father had stormed out at the end, enraged beyond the point of words but her mother had choked some silent and barely audible words to her: "Go. Run away and never come back or they will kill you. Please Kamilah, the pain of seeing you killed would be too much."

Kamilah had cried uncontrollably, kissing her mother on the cheek and asking her to tell her brothers that she loved them. And then she had left.

But even after all that, Allah saw fit to punish her further.

* * *

_Nine months later._

* * *

Kamilah had taken to lying. She said to all that asked, that she was a widow with no surviving family. This explained succinctly why she was out without a male escort and heavily pregnant. Although, it did not stop the disapproving looks. Woman shouldn't be out in such a state.

She waddled uncomfortably through the streets of Hebron, making her way to the home of the physician and his wife, with whom she had become firm friends.

In fact, they were her only friends.

She knocked briefly on the door and was greeted by a flustered looking woman with mousy brown hair.

"Kamilah!" she scolded, "You know you shouldn't be out in such heat! Why, this can cause a man to drop like a stone, let alone a pregnant woman like yourself! Think of the babe."

But Kamilah did not think of the babe. Thinking of the baby made her feel sick. This baby was the embodiment of all her suffering and no matter how hard she tried to love the little being inside of her, she could not bring herself to do it. This only made her feel worse.

"But come in, come in!" She said warmly, opening the door wide.

"Thank you my friend." Kamilah said, in her softly lilting tone, moving slowly over the threshold to sit on the closest chair. Zafir, the physician came through a door to greet Kamilah.

"How wonderful it is to see you again Kamilah!" He beamed genuinely. Kamilah could safely say that she now felt comfortable in his presence, even though it had taken her six months to feel that way. He was a rotund man with a kindly face and not much hair and his wife, Yasmin, looked much the same except for the hair, of which she had a lot.

Kamilah suddenly stopped; she felt something warm and wet trickle down her leg. For one mortifying second she thought she may have lost control of her bladder but then she remembered the warnings Yasmin – a knowledgeable midwife – had given her. This was her waters breaking.

"Yasmin!" She cried shrilly, fear consuming her until all she could see was blind panic, "My, m-m-my waters!" She stuttered, gripping onto Zafir's shoulders as if she would crash to the floor.

Yasmin turned instantly professional, barking orders to her husband to fetch buckets of hot water and blankets while she ushered a petrified Kamilah into a room across the way with a large bed in it, upon which to made Kamilah lie down on, telling her to breathe deeply.

Zafir, despite his many years as a physician, still became stressed at the thought of birthing and always chose to leave it to his far more experienced wife, only intervening if there was a complication. He had an expression to rival Kamilah's as he hurried into the room, lugging a bucket of water behind him and a handful of towels before dumping them on the floor and making a hasty retreat, offering a quick prayer for Kamilah's safety; he had become fond of the girl in recent months.

Yasmin pulled the hair of Kamilah's face and tucked it under her head, calmly explaining what Kamilah would feel. She explained about contractions and how she would start to feel them soon and Kamilah's already white face plummeted a few shades until she was like a sheet. And that was hard for someone with such beautifully bronzed skin.

Yasmin had never seen such fear on someone's face and she had seen _many_ women give birth. Kamilah seemed scared of more than just the birth and her heart went out to her.

Kamilah_ was _scared of more. Much more. She was scared she couldn't love her child. And even as she thought it she was disgusted with herself. What kind of mother was she? But how could 

she love the reminder of her horrific night? But those worries instantly evaporated as the pain of the first contraction coursed through her and she screamed bloody murder.

Yasmin gently removed Kamilah's clothes with little help from Kamilah herself, and laid them in a pile on the floor calmly, allowing Kamilah to get on with her screaming.

In the room along the corridor, Zafir winced.

Yasmin gave a contented sigh; there was something immensely satisfying about the thought of delivering another baby. She turned towards Kamilah and composed her face into a mask of utter seriousness and professionalism.

"Kamilah!" She barked, "Breathe deeply and stop screaming! It's not going to get any better so prepare!"

"WHAT?!"

* * *

Zafir heaved a sigh when he heard the first bawls of a baby and his shoulders relaxed; she would be alright.

Yasmin picked up the baby and quickly, efficiently severed and knotted the cord that tied it to its mother. She ignored its cries and wiped it down with one of the towels, sticking a finger in its mouth to clear away any mucus and bathing it in the now tepid water. A quick check between the babes legs confirmed that it was a boy.

For Kamilah, from the moment the intense pain had stopped, the dread set in. What if when she saw the baby she recoiled at the sight of it? What if she really couldn't love it? Tears sprang to her eyes in frustration. She hated herself right now.

A few seconds later, Yasmin came around the side of the bed with the baby in one hand as she helped Kamilah sit up. She handed her the baby gently, cradling its head as a confused and frightened Kamilah raised two shaky hands up to receive it.

"For all your whining, you've done a wonderful job. It's a healthy baby boy." Said Yasmin affectionately. Kamilah looked up at her with glistening eyes and her look of gratitude was much more than that of a usual person she dealt with. Her eyes were wide in wonder with still a tinge of fear but on the whole, she had the reaction Yasmin expected and hoped for in a new mother: Awe and love.

"He'll need to be fed in a few minutes and you're welcome to stay at my home for the next few days so I can help you with the babe. I'll leave you now." Yasmin said, walking toward the door with dirty towels and buckets. Kamilah nodded silently at her, her lip quivering with unshed tears and appreciation.

As the door closed quietly, Kamilah let the tears pour down her face. She'd had a sudden revelation as her baby had been placed into her arms; he was still half of her. And he needed her. She could look at him and not recoil; even the memories were dulled by the sight of him. She needn't associate him with horrible things. It wasn't his fault that his father was a vile person. This little baby was her means to move on.

"You will be Altaïr." She said softly, touching his tiny nose with her finger tip. "Son of none."

* * *

_Hey guys,_

_I think I might have made a little boo-boo. Apparently Ms Raymond (Producer of Assassin's Creed) has stated that Altaïr's MOTHER was Christian, not his father. So basically, I've screwed up; I thought it was the other way around. However, I hope you can forgive this mistake and accept my version. Although, to be honest, his father could have still been English…just Muslim…and his mother Arabic…yet Christian. However…we all know that that isn't right :P Kamilah is Muslim, I can tell you that much. So, I'm sorry for the inaccuracy and hope you don't mind. Too much. _

_Now, onto reviews! Thanks to all who have done so! I love you all!_

_**Reikat **__Hehe, takes a bow thank you, thank you! (Yeah, I know…I was really embarrassed for her)_

_**MusicalSoul **__Trust me, there ain't __**no one**__ who's gonna make a quick recovery from __**THAT**__ kinda beating! And yeah, I've often seen characters suddenly run after a broken ankle, or punch somebody after they'd fractured their wrist…. Hmm…suspicious. _

_**Elise **__Hehe, even I haven't written the next FIVE chapters! I'm up to chapter 22 and have written two chapters that appear further on in the story. And you're the greatest kind of strange I've ever come across! _

_**LupisNoctis **__Thanks, I hope you enjoyed this chapter too, even if it is a bit depressing ___

_**Erica5 **__Ahh, you're totally right. Thankyou for justifying myself to me! And don't worry, he's not going to be quitting. Altaïr is an Assassin. Nothing can change that. Hehe, you've made me feel loads better! :D_

_**Rachel **__I'm really glad you've liked it enough to read through all the chapters at once! Hope you continue to enjoy them ;)_

_**Your Most Enjoyable Nightmare **__(I've only just realised that your name has spaces between each word! Hooray! Now Microsoft word doesn't have a spazz attack every time I type it as it desperately tries to get me to change the word to something it recognises!) You should always stay like that! If everybody didn't think a different way, the world would be boring. I'm like you. I have a way of thinking that not many others do and I couldn't imagine being any different! Don't listen to the noobs that say you don't have a life :D _

_**Kraele and Bremon **__Heehee, yeah, I don't imagine Altaïr as actually having the capacity to be embarrassed. You should write them down because I love the names, really, really love them. I don't know why, they just sound so cool! _

_**Xostormy **__indeed, I cannot read your mind! For I am no Edward! And thank you very much, 'tis rather a flattering comparison but oddly enough, I've never once thought of Bella and Edward as I was writing! Haven't even thought of Ms Meyer, even though I love her books! And I love that outfit of Altaïr's. It's just kind of...hot. And I'm really glad you could envisage it with me! And I didn't actually got to Paris, I went to Normandy. But bear in mind that you're from America so its ages away for you! For me, it's only an hour's ferry crossing :P _

_**AltairLover **__Thank you and I already read Zuleika's Creed :D _

_**TheEvilSurgeon **__Thank you very much and you made me laugh! I wish people would stop interrupting to! I mean come on! _

_**Sadie **__Thank you :D _

_**Migido667 **__Yeah, there is a lot of past to talk about! Thanks my love!_


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

"I-I don't know what to say..." I stuttered, my hands wrapped around my knees in a subconscious attempt to comfort myself.

"I don't believe there is much you _can_ say to such a story." Altaïr replied, his gaze focused on the wall in front of us. "I'm sorry if I have upset you." He added, turning his head to look at me.

"No, no!" I hastily interjected, "No. I wanted to know. _I am_ the one who should be sorry for making you tell your story again."

"Don't be." He disagreed, "True, it is sad but not for me; for my mother. But she was a strong woman."

I battled with a number of questions in my mind. Would it be appropriate to ask them?

"But…" I started uncomfortably, "how do…" I paused, wondering whether to go on, "…how do _you_ feel about it?"

"You mean, how do I feel about being the child of a corrupt English rapist?" He said, voicing my unspoken question in stronger words then I would have used, his tone understandably harder than before.

"Yes. I suppose." I agreed quietly.

"I am the son of none." He sighed, almost in resignation, "In my eyes, I have no father. I was my mother's child and no-one else's."

I nodded in agreement, pulling my legs closer towards my body for warmth. Altaïr's story had brought a vague chill across me. His poor mother. I could only imagine how it would have been to realise you were carrying the child of the man who had attacked you. But all my questions still weren't answered.

"What about after?" I began softly, "Tell me about your childhood."

"As you wish."

* * *

"Altaïr!" Kamilah shouted frantically. "Altaïr, where are you!?" She ran around the house in a frenzy, checking every room before running into the garden and tearing it apart. She looked behind every door; in every sack of hay (He had a penchant for hiding in them); between every building and yet there was no sign of him.

"Altaïr!" She called again, pulling her skirts up to her knees so she could sprint. The strain the little demon put on her heart when he disappeared like this was almost too much to bear.

All of a sudden, a small voice came from above. Kamilah's head shot up suddenly and there he was; a little boy dressed in an ill fitting tunic parading around on the roof. Kamilah's eyes near popped out of her sockets.

"Mama, I'm here!" He called, placing his hands on his hips and grinning cheekily at her.

"Altaïr!" She barked, her fear giving away to anger now that she had found him, "What do you think you are doing?!"

"I was just climbing Mama." He said earnestly, scouring the area for foothold so he could get down.

"I don't care whether you were saving Allah himself from imminent death; I do NOT want you on the roof. Do you hear me?!" She yelled loudly.

Altaïr sighed disparagingly. He was almost six now, he pouted. Perfectly capable of looking after himself. He didn't need his Mama to worry about him anymore.

"Jump." His mama ordered, "I'll catch you."

"I'm too big to catch!" He huffed back.

"If you're not too big to thrash then you're certainly not too big to catch. Jump." She said imperatively.

Altaïr grudgingly climbed to the edge of the roof and dangled off it, his little limbs swinging in the air. "Ready Mama?" He asked.

"Ready. Let go." She replied. After a bit of mental preparation, he let go and no sooner had he done so, he was clutched tightly to his mother's breast. Too tightly.

"Maa-maa!" He whinged, stretching the word into two syllables to emphasise his indignation at being handled in such a way.

"I was so worried." She continued, "Don't ever run away like that again. If you want to climb, climb that little tree there and tell me first!"

"I've already climbed that tree many times. It's boring." He argued.

"I don't care." Kamilah replied, swinging the little boy onto her hip and walking back into the house, "It's not safe to be on the roof."

"Sorry Mama." He sang, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes at his mother's worrying.

"Never mind, just don't do it again!" She said, plucking Altaïr off her hip and perching him on the side of the thick wooden dining table.

With all previous misdeeds forgiven – in his eyes – Altaïr launched back into cheerful mode.

"What are we going to do now Mama?" He asked excitedly, hopping agilely off the edge of the table and running up to peer over the counter where his Mama was preparing something.

"We're going to feed and milk the cows first." She said, drying her hands on her skirt and picking up the bucket she had been preparing the cows food in.

"Ohh," Altaïr groaned, following his mother out the door, "I hate milking. Nabile hates me. She kicked me over last time."

"That's because you scared her." His mother stated matter-of-factly, holding the bucket to her chest and striding towards the field where her two cows lived, Nabile and Izza.

Kamilah had purchased Izza – in fact, purchased her whole house – when Altaïr was but a babe in arms, with money that her mother had secretly sent her. She'd been reduced to tears at her mother's gratitude and didn't know how she had found her, only that she had and she'd kept Kamilah off the streets.

Even though her midwife and close friend, Yasmin, had constantly offered for Kamilah to live with her, she knew that she couldn't be such a burden upon her and had resorted to staying in the same inn she had stayed in since she'd escaped to Hebron, earning her keep by doing intensive but menial tasks during the day and being the entertainment by night; singing and dancing, both things she was very skilled at.

She had spent as much time as she could afford to with Altaïr but most of his early days, up until he was about two weeks old, were spent alone in the inn, his mother too exhausted to even pick him up by the end of the day. That was, until the money arrived.

It had been in the early morning; Kamilah had arisen and fed Altaïr before she needed to be downstairs ready to clean the whole kitchen, wash all the floors and change all the linen. A young boy had been waiting downstairs for her, someone she hadn't recognised until the last minute.

"Hani!" She'd screamed, before running up and dropping down on her knees to hug him.

"Kami!" He'd replied, using the affectionate nickname that all the children who'd known her had used. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too. All of you." Kamilah whimpered, hugging him closer in case he wasn't real. Hani, a little eleven year old, was the first tenuous link to her old life that she'd had in nine and a half months; one of the children she used to play with and build mud huts with, when her life had been uncomplicated.

"Why are you here? So far away from home?" Kamilah whispered.

"It's not that far and I have something from your mama." Hani whispered back, his chest puffing with pride at being trusted with such a task as he removed a large pouch from the inside of his little sleeveless jacket, handing it to Kamilah as her eyes widened in disbelief.

It was very heavy and it 'chinked' lightly when jostled. There was only one thing it could be.

"Mighty fine lot there is too, I imagine." Hani winked, "Not that I've had a peek." He added hastily.

Kamilah poked two fingers into the opening and pulled it tentatively open, turning it upside down and pouring some of the contents into her hand. A torrent of gold coins flooded out and fell into her hands, some flowing into her skirts when her hand could take no more.

Hani's eyes widened at the sheer amount as he picked up a coin from Kamilah's skirts and whirled it around in his fingers. He whistled appreciatively.

"Unbelievable." Kamilah stuttered, scooping the coins slowly back into the bag but surreptitiously letting Hani keep the one he was twirling around between his fingers. "How did she find me?" Kamilah ask in disbelief.

"Who knows," Hani replied, "She just asked me one day when I was playing with Suhayl and Sami in the field."

Kamilah's head snapped up at the mention of her sibling's names. "How are my brothers?" She asked desperately.

Hani hung his head. "They miss you." He said sadly, "We all do."

"I know." Kamilah said despondently, "I miss them all too."

"I don't believe it." Hani said suddenly, his voice filled with sincerity.

"Don't believe what?" Kamilah questioned.

"That you were bad." Hani said, his eyes flashing. "You were never bad…but still, I was told you were sent away. Well, your mama told me that you were sent away. Every other adult said that you had run away like a coward." He corrected, speaking the words like he didn't know what they truly meant.

Kamilah's eyes were wet with unshed tears. "Did Sayyid say that?" She asked sadly.

"Yes." Hani replied, "He said lots of horrible things that my Mama wouldn't tell me the meaning of. My mama said that he wanted to hurt you dreadfully for being a bad wife." Hani's little eyebrows were scrunched together in confusion and sadness.

"He did want to hurt me. That's why I had to go away." Kamilah replied in some semblance of an explanation for her behaviour. She was still overwhelmed at the money her mother had sent her. She knew her mother hadn't wanted to see her killed but she'd thought that was where it ended. Kamilah had shamed her mother and her father; marking them out as being bad parents because of their wilful and disgraceful bed-hopper of a daughter. Yet she was holding a symbol of her mother's love in her hands; money enough to comfortably buy a house and have plenty left over.

"You would never be a bad wife." Hani said, snapping Kamilah out of her reverie. "If I were six years older, I would marry you." He added, both solemn and cheeky at the same time.

"And I, you." She agreed, laughing with him at the notion. She placed the bag of money in a pocket on her dress and stood up, pulling Hani up with her.

"Oh," Hani said, his tone implying that he had forgotten to add something. "Your mama told me to tell you this:" He screwed up his face in concentration as he tried to recall the words that had been given to him. "She said, 'I do not care what you have done in the past, I love you and you are still my daughter. You may not be able to return to us but I wish you the best life.'"

Kamilah welled up again and Hani patted the only part of her that he could reach properly; her arm. She squeezed his little fingers in her own comfortingly and asked Hani to return a message to her for her.

"Do you think you can remember this?" She asked urgently, "This is of the utmost importance."

"Of course!" Hani agreed cheerfully, "I remembered that didn't I?"

Kamilah laughed. "I suppose you did." She conceded. "Tell her this: 'Mama, I can never thank you enough, know that I've always loved you and never meant to cause you pain. Forgive me.'"

"I can do that." He smiled.

"Repeat it to me then!" Kamilah winked, in mock challenge, her smile hiding how desperate she was for her mother to hear this.

Hani repeated it word perfect and Kamilah placed a kiss on his smooth forehead.

"Ugh." He grimaced. "You may be like my sister but you're still a girl!" He complained, his eyes twinkling to show he was only joking.

Kamilah already knew she would miss Hani the moment he left; he was so cheerful. Still, she felt uneasy about letting him make the long journey alone.

"Hani, are you sure you'll be alright?" She asked, concerned.

"I'll be fine Kami." He said for the third time. "My uncle is escorting me back. My mama was being like you are." He explained.

"Okay." Kamilah accepted, getting down onto her knees to hug him again.

"Don't forget to tell my mama." She reminded as she finally let Hani go and he bounced towards the door.

"I won't!"

"I love you Hani."

"I love you too Kami." He replied, sticking his tongue out in mock abhorrence.

"Take care!" She shouted after him.

"I will!" He shouted back, his voice fading as he walked further and further away.

When Kamilah could no longer hear the soft padding of his feet, she raced upstairs and burst into her tiny room, gently picking Altaïr out of his mock crib in the drawer of a desk and clutching him close to her chest, tears pouring down her face.

"Altaïr, we're going to be okay." She snuffled, sitting down on the bed and resting Altaïr on her knees, his little fists gripping tightly onto her index fingers, almost as if he understood her joy. She placed him in a dip in the bed while she whirled around the room, collecting all her belongings and putting them in a little canvas bag. It was sad that everything she owned and held dear in the world could fit into a little bag. Except possibly Altaïr, but then again, he was so small that he probably could. She made sure to double check everything; nervously patting the bulge in her skirts to make sure the money hadn't just dissipated into thin air or was a figment of her imagination.

She plucked Altaïr off the bed and adjusted the sheets with one hand, holding Altaïr in the crook of her elbow before walking out of the room with a spring in her step.

She was going house hunting.

* * *

The product of her relatively short search was a lovely, yet dilapidated farm house. Not well cared for by the Farmer whose land it encroached, it took a lot of Kamilah's time to make it habitable. Altaïr was almost five months old by the time she felt she had finished all the work necessary. It wasn't big and there was only one room upstairs but it had everything Kamilah and Altaïr needed. There was a sizeable portion of land and a bit extra given to her by the Farmer because he was slightly infatuated with her.

The money she had left was kept under a loose floorboard and even after re-doing the whole house, purchasing a year's worth of seeds and buying two cows, Kamilah had enough left to live frugally, yet comfortably. However, she worked at the same inn she'd stayed at before, only doing less work and actually being paid for it this time.

All things considered, Kamilah was happy. And Altaïr, the beautiful product of a horrible occurrence, made her happiest of all.

* * *

There was a soft '_thud_' and then suddenly Altaïr was sprawled in the mud on his back, rubbing his chest where Nabile had kicked him.

"Mama! She's done it again!" He said in a huff, gingerly picking himself and the stool up and giving Nabile the cow an angry slap on the rear end.

"Did you spill the milk?" Kamilah asked unconcerned as she continued to methodically squeeze Izza's udders.

"No."

"Well then you'll be fine." She said.

Altaïr sighed in indignation, grumbling something about, _'…all she cares about...'_

Kamilah artfully turned the situation around. "Darling, of _course_ I care about the milk. I know that you're too _strong_ to be hurt by such a small beast." She crooned appraisingly.

Altaïr cocked his little chin and nodded fervently. "You're right mama. It didn't even hurt."

"Exactly." She smiled and turned back to filling her bucket with milk. Altaïr did the same, only at a much slower pace; his little fingers weren't as gentle and Nabile was quick to irritate. Often Kamilah found herself wondering why _she_ didn't milk Nabile herself and let Altaïr take care of the much easier going Izza. _Practise_, she said to herself as she lithely shot up and picked up the bucket before Izza had a change to knock it over.

"Keep going Altaïr, I'm just going to go and put this milk away."

"Okay mama." He replied, his face screwed up in intense concentration.

By the time Kamilah had poured the milk into bottles and deposited it in the much cooler underground room, Altaïr was only just finishing off milking Nabile. Just as well he'd managed to finish when he had, one moment more and Nabile's temper would have snapped and she'd have stormed off. She didn't like it when Izza always got to the grass first.

"Well done darling." Kamilah praised, ruffling Altaïr's dark hair and smiling widely at his smug little expression. She helped Altaïr carry the milk bucket into the house and went about storing it the same way she had with the last batch.

For the rest of the day, Kamilah, with her enthusiastic, hyperactive helper set about making sure that all the animals were fed and watered (Kamilah and Altaïr also owned a flock of chickens and one mule who was housed with the cows); all the rooms were clean and that the seeds that had been planted a few months ago were still surviving well.

In the late afternoon, Kamilah decided that – even though she didn't want to – a trip to the market place was necessary. With a heavy heart, she changed clothes and brushed Altaïr down; she did not enjoy taking Altaïr to the market in the heat and Altaïr did not enjoy going. When he got bored, he got inquisitive and it wouldn't be the first time he'd left his mother's side or got lost there.

"Altaïr, please, please don't let go of my hand, okay?" She pleaded, kneeling down in front of him while she adjusted his tunic.

"I promise Mama." He said solemnly, nodding his head once. She nodded in acknowledgement and wrapped her hand over his little one before walking out the door and locking it. She took a deep breath and prepared for the stares.

* * *

Kamilah felt the familiar stab of anger as people stared at Altaïr. His skin was slightly lighter than most and he spoke Arabic but there was no denying that his parentage was not solely Arabic. Kamilah looked down at him again, his eyes trained forward, pretended to ignore people's quizzical looks, and she sighed. It was hard to tell how he would look when he was older, only that he wouldn't look Arabic.

English people in Hebron were few and far between; the only person she knew in the whole of Hebron who was English was a seventy three year old man called Richard who was born the year that the First Crusade ended, 1099. He was a kindly old man; well know by almost all the citizens for his stories and his pottery. His wheezy voice as he huffed and puffed during his tales was almost calming and the children often went to sit in his home by the souk to listen. But he was the only one.

Now there was Altaïr. The son of an unknown Arabic woman who'd arrived in Hebron, only to show her pregnancy a few months later. Hebron wasn't small but gossip travelled fast. People's suspicions had been duly aroused. What were they to think? Of course they assumed that Kamilah had run away here in shame over her pregnancy, the child of an English man no less. No amount of falsified explanations could shift peoples deep set views. But Kamilah and Altaïr didn't let it get them down.

People were always cordial, if not a bit distant but that was all Kamilah could ask for. Kamilah had explained to him not so long ago that some people may react differently to him (and her for that matter) and she'd even discussed his parentage with him, telling him, '_Your papa did something that I didn't want but to say sorry, he gave me you._' When he was older, he would realise what she meant by that but until then, she couldn't bring herself to tell him directly, especially at that age he was now. But she couldn't really avoid it, he'd become curious as to why he didn't have a father, as was to be expected of such a young child. Thankfully, as far as she could tell, he'd taken it all in his stride. Just like Kamilah knew and hoped that he would.

"I don't need a papa anyway!" Altaïr had said happily. Kamilah had cried again then; she'd become a lot more emotional since she'd had Altaïr. She snapped quickly out of her reverie and turned her attention to the small boy bouncing along beside her.

"Altaïr, is there anything special you would like to eat tonight?" Kamilah asked as her eyes swept passed all the stalls, judging whether or not they were worth looking at.

"Not really." He replied, his hand still firmly encased in Kamilah's unyielding one as he looked around disinterestedly at the stalls.

"Okay then, we'll just make do with what we already have at home."

"Okay." He agreed cheerfully. That meant he could probably get home faster.

Kamilah hurriedly bought the thread she'd come out for and started back for home just as the sun began to descend on the horizon. Altaïr yawned widely and his eyelids began to droop. Kamilah smiled at him and picked him up in one swift movement, perching him on her left hip as she continued down the tiny, winding side streets of Hebron. Altaïr quickly fell asleep on her shoulder, his hands still clasped around the thread she'd put there while she carried him home.

Kamilah could feel herself getting hot and tired; Altaïr was heavy and at almost six years old, he wasn't going to get any lighter. She struggled the last few metres, fumbled with the key in the lock and dragged her feet up the stairs to her and Altaïr's bedroom. It was almost completely black apart from the gentle glow of the moon through the two windows and Kamilah narrowly avoided tripping straight over Altaïr's spinning top. She cursed lightly and gently cradled Altaïr's head as she lowered him down to his little mattress on the floor. He was a deep sleeper and didn't so much as bat an eyelid as she took of his clothes, hanging them up on the window sill and leaving only his little shorts to sleep in.

When he was comfortably in bed, she flopped backwards onto hers, yawning widely as she half-heartedly yanked off her clothes and pulled on her nightdress. Even though she was tired, she often found herself watching Altaïr while he slept; his mop of dark hair falling over his face and his hands screwed up into fists as he gripped the blanket. She could even see the rather vicious scar on his upper lip that he'd acquired when he'd flung himself over the fence for fun but ended up landing on a rock on the ground. Oh the blood and tears there'd been. He'd tried to be tough and not cry but she'd told him that it wasn't always necessary to be the tough one and so he'd bawled like a baby.

It was nothing but a vague line across his lips now but still noticeable. He was quite proud of it now; all children loved scars. They were like a sign of your adventurousness; a sign that you weren't afraid to get hurt and that you spent your time participating in pulse pounding and daring activities. There were lots of other little scars to show that with Altaïr. Kamilah smiled at the thought; he was quite the little adventurer. Always sending her maternal heart hammering as he climbed things he shouldn't climb and jumped of things taller then he should jump off. He'd also tried to ride Nabile once; that had been a mistake he'd never, ever replicate. She was one scary cow when angered and even though she often found herself denying that Nabile hated Altaïr every time he complained, she secretly thought that she did indeed, still harbour a grudge.

Kamilah sighed and turned round onto her back, lying on top of her covers as the night was sticky and humid. She couldn't resist one more peek at Altaïr before she fell into a contented sleep.

* * *

_Hey everyone :D_

_So, yeah, since I decided to write a fic, Altaïr's back story has always been important to me and it got me thinking… You don't get called 'Son of None' for nothing and this is always how I've seen it. It makes quite a lot of sense when you think about it but I wasn't quite sure how to go about writing about it. But thankfully, it went down well. Thank you all! Now, onto reviews! How I love thee! (Oh, and sorry that this update took so long to arrive. I have this OCD thing about writing more of future chapters before I upload things. Like I almost have to feel that I have something in the reserve banks :P I'm trying to reign in that feeling though! (Oh, and I also started school again :P))_

**LupisNoctis **Thank you very much. I was a bit worried before hand but in my mind, there is no other way.

**Reikat **I'm with you Reikat, I'm not so sure that I want kids either. I'm not even sure I want to get married. I'm a hopeless commitment-a-phobe. The thought of being tied down to kids and a husband kind of scares me. That being said, I've never been in love or even in a serious relationship so things my change. But still…kids. shudders I love them but not necessarily having them myself. You may be tokophobic, some women just are. It 'aint exactly pleasant!

**Elise **Thank you :D I'm flattered by the sheer size of the word you used to describe it! And I'll do my best to churn out some more chapters faster!

**MusicalSoul **Yeah we'll just have to wait and see. And thank you! You're completely right, my grammar went up the shoot for that one word. I'll change it in the main chapter a.s.a.p! (Edit: Changed :D Thanks very much)

**Migido667 **I know that it wasn't really, because luckily, in this case, it's only a piece of fiction but I kind of jumped on the bandwagon with the warning thing because I had seen other people do it and kind of thought I should to :P But thank you very much, I'm glad you think so. Hug!

**Erica5 **Literally the day after I wrote Chapter 20, I actually saw an article in the paper about a girl who had her rapists baby when she was only sixteen. It was quite a shocking coincidence but it was very interesting. As I've actually ended up writing about, she found that her baby helped her get over the incident and move on and she did love her. But I too empathise with Altaïr although, there is more to his past then has been revealed thus far, so you'll see how it all pans out soon. And thank you very much, I know my mistake won't really detract from how I intended the chapter to be received but I just didn't want to get torn apart by anybody just in case they picked up on it. (Even though my regular readers are all lovely people and wouldn't really do that!)

**Your Most Enjoyable Nightmare** Yeah, for some reason, I was so utterly convinced that his mother was Arabic that I didn't even bother to check up on it. Only after I had written all the chapters concerning Kamilah did I read some official info on the internet and kick myself. It just seemed so right the way I was writing it that I didn't want it to be any different! But still, even though I know it's not how it's meant to be exactly, I wouldn't change it. And wow! Thank you so much! Yes, I have thought of writing a novel many a time, simply because I love writing so much :D Its my dream to do so. And soon. Look out for it one day! ;) But please, I wouldn't want to be the cause of your broken mouse! Take it easy! And screw the shiny nickel! I want your eternal love!

**38 **Oh no, no! I know that 'Altaïr' means 'Flying one'. I was fully referring to the 'Ibn La-Ahad' part of his name. Sorry for the confusion with that. But I can see what you mean; the fact that I didn't use the direct translation for his first name but then I did for his last one is kind of confusing. However, I'm glad you still like the ending. You don't have to flee :D You better bloody come back for future chapters!

**AltairLover **Thank you very much And the double dots are part of the symbol bit so go to "Insert" and then "Symbol" and then find the double dotty 'I'. I've also set it to 'auto correct' so that I don't have to edit it each any every time. To do that, first type two words together that should be separate that Microsoft Word won't recognise…like your name for example! "AltairLover" (All one word). Then right click and point to 'auto correct' then 'auto correct options. In the middle it says 'Replace something or other'. Type Altaïr without the dotty I first, then tell Word to replace it with the dotty I Altaïr. Does that make sense? It was kind of garbled because I get really confused when trying to give instructions to people. I'm really bad :P

**Kraele and Bremon **That's exactly the way that I know Kamilah felt. Babies are helpless and still need someone; it wasn't Altaïr's fault. And thank you so much

**Bloutije **(Cool name…Sounds kinda dutch!) Thank you very much! I love new readers and especially ones that like my fic so much they read it all at once :D Squee!

**Xostormy **I take French and I even did fantastically well at it for my GCSE….but when it comes to talking to a real person…it goes straight down the pan. I find it so hard! Yet I can waffle about my holiday and my house for hours! And thank you, I'm glad you like the balance.

**ShadowMasterSeek **That would be really weird if it turned out to be true for the real game! Can you imagine?! And yeah, of course! I'd love to read them

**Rinoax **Thank you very much and hehe yeah, I know, not so simple now is it? :D

**Potzy375 **Don't worry, I'll forgive you for not reviewing earlier chapters…just this once ;) And no, no, sorry! When I mentioned the producer, I just meant I'd read an interview with her. I wish I had met her though, that'd be cool! Is my writing style really like hers?! Freaky. But hey, whatever goes! Glad you like it :D I do like Ms Meyer too so it isn't a bad thing :D


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

* * *

When Kamilah woke up and glanced over to the floor, Altaïr was already gone. She felt the split second familiar stab of worry before she calmed herself down with simple logic. He was a young boy; of course he wasn't going to wait around. She needed to rein in her paranoid motherly feelings; they very easily got out of hand.

She slung her legs over the bed and stretched the kinks out of her body before quickly washing her face, getting changed and pulling her hair up into a ponytail so it was out of her face and she'd be ready for the day's work.

When Kamilah got downstairs, the remnants of Altaïr's breakfast were strewn over the table and she heaved a sigh. How many times would she have to tell him until he actually took a blind bit of notice? But the thoughts were quickly dismissed when a shout of surprise and an almighty crash sounded from somewhere outside in the garden.

"Mama!" Altaïr shouted, "Mama!"

"Altaïr, what is it?" Kamilah shouted in panic as she yanked the door open and ran outside into the crisp morning air.

Altaïr was tearing at full speed up towards her, a bucket on his arm flailing about, throwing animal feed all over the place.

"Mama, there's a girl in the barn!" Altaïr shouted, his cheeks flushed with exertion.

"There's a _what where_?!" Kamilah shouted back, not sure whether she'd heard him right while running to meet him in the middle.

"A girl!" He repeated, "In the barn!" he added as he reached his mother and grabbed her hand, pulling her back down the hill towards where he'd scurried away from.

She followed him the short way down the smooth incline and stopped at the open entrance to the barn.

"Where did you see her darling?" She whispered, in the cautious voice she reserved for sceptical questionings.

"There." He replied, pointing towards a pile of tatty half-empty sacks of grain and sparse yellow flowers in the far right corner of the barn with a voice of resolution.

"Okay." She said out of the corner of her mouth, "Stay there."

Kamilah was slightly confused, to say the least. She had only just woken up and already there was a problem. A girl in the barn? Was Altaïr telling the truth? Was there an actual threat?

She crept up and noticed with a start, one small flimsy shoe lying on a sack of grain and a patch of trampled yellow flowers. If that was anything to go by, the girl was tiny. And sure enough, she was.

Nestled in between the sacs – like an egg in a nest – was a young girl, who seemed no older than Altaïr, with matted hair and dirt smeared all over her face. She only had a thin, ripped and tattered tunic on but was sleeping peacefully. Kamilah was surprised by this, what with Altaïr making such a damned racket and all. The girl looked so small and under-nourished that Kamilah felt the need to take her in and protect her. She leaned over and gently shook her shoulder.

The small girl suddenly shot up, her eyes wide with fear and tried to throw herself out of her make shift bed.

"No, no!" Kamilah soothed, "I'm not going to hurt you."

Her unusually dark eyes stared at Kamilah with fear and reproach but she didn't try to run away again. Suddenly, Altaïr appeared beside Kamilah and peered over the side too, desperate to be part of the commotion.

The girl opened her mouth to speak and her voice came out in a raspy whisper: "You are not angry that I slept in your barn?"

"Of course not." Kamilah said gently and the girl noticed that her eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled; she was incredibly beautiful and so was the little boy that she could see next to the woman. He had dark hair and deep brown, sparkling eyes that were, at the moment, overflowing with interest and curiosity.

"I only wish you had come inside the house instead." Kamilah continued kindly. "Please come in now and let me give you a proper meal."

"You don't mind?" The girl asked quizzically as if no-one had really offered her anything, her legs still curled underneath her in the dip of the pile of sacs.

"No, I want to feed you." Kamilah replied firmly. "What's your name?"

The little girl looked stricken as she automatically dropped her head to the ground. "I-I don't really remember." The little girl replied embarrassedly.

That prompted Altaïr to suddenly chip in.

"You don't remember!?" He squeaked. "How can you not remember your name?"

"Well, I, uh…" She stammered, her eyes cast downwards.

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to." Kamilah said, fearing that the girl may just be being cautious.

"No, no!" the girl squeaked in alarm; she didn't want the kind lady to think she was lying to her. "I honestly do not remember my name. That's the only thing I don't remember because I've been living on the street ever since my parents died when I was five…"

Altaïr was baffled. Not remembering your name? That was just silly. She must be dense.

Kamilah tried not to let the anguish show on her face as she heard this. The poor little girl, living on her own without any parents; it almost made tears prick her eyes when she thought of how frail this child looked.

"This is my son by the way." Kamilah smiled, indicating to Altaïr on her left. "His name is Altaïr. We would both be honoured if you would join us for breakfast."

The girl nodded quickly and crawled nimbly out of the sacs and hopped onto the floor, brushing stray petals and bits of rag onto the ground. The question of why the girl couldn't remember her name kept both Kamilah and Altaïr occupied as they walked the short distance back to the house.

While the little girl ate and was entertained by Altaïr, Kamilah searched around for some of Altaïr's old clothes for her to wear; she couldn't stay in the rags she had on. She managed to unearth a decent tunic and some slightly tatty shalwars, both from some point in Altaïr's youth; the only ones that weren't riddled with holes from his various boyish escapades.

She could hear the girls chiming laughter as Altaïr regaled to her tales of his adventures and she smiled; he was very charismatic. Kamilah noticed with a start that the huge meal of eggs, bread and broth was already gone and the girl was picking at her plate for crumbs.

"Did you enjoy that?" Kamilah asked, placing the folded clothes on the table next to the plates.

"Very much so, thank you." She replied earnestly, her dirty face cracking into a wide grin that made her teeth gleam in comparison.

"Time to bathe you then. I've found you some clothes. You can't stay in those rags."

The girls screwed up her face into an expression that she recognised well. Altaïr pulled the same face when it came for him to bathe as well. What was it with children and cleanliness? But Kamilah was a no nonsense kind of woman and so the little girl was ushered firmly into an adjoining room where a large wooden tub was waiting.

There was no knowing how old the girl was, especially as her body was so small and frail looking, making her look younger than she probably was. However, her face seemed older and so Kamilah estimated that she was around eight and the girl herself seemed to agree.

A few hours later and the little girl was clean, dressed and had had her hair attacked with a comb by Kamilah. She was shorter than Altaïr and seemed so breakable yet she could tear around the field just as fast as him, much to Altaïr's chagrin. She could climb and jump just like him and was quick and lithe on her feet, which she claimed was from years of living on the street and stealing for a living.

"You stole stuff?" Altaïr asked reverently which Kamilah guessed was from the fact that she had done something he hadn't and it impressed him.

"I had to…" She mumbled under her breath. "But I only ever stole from rich people." She said as an after though, as if that would redeem her in the lady's eyes.

Kamilah in fact, did not think badly of her at all; any person in the girl's situation would have done the same.

But before Altaïr could ask any more questions, something needed to be cleared up.

"Your name." Kamilah said softly, "I think we need to decide upon one."

The girl nodded in agreement and Kamilah suddenly spied something on the girl's tunic and so leant forward to pluck it off. It was a little yellow petal and as she held it delicately between her fingers, an idea came to her.

"How about Adawiyah? We did discover you in them after all." Kamilah grinned, holding up the little yellow petal to emphasise her point. In her heart, it was also a name she'd always loved.

"If that's the thought you're going on then we should be calling her 'Sacks' not 'Summer Flowers'." Altaïr said cheekily, causing the girl to burst into fits of laughter.

"I prefer 'Summer Flowers' thank you very much." She giggled.

"Adawiyah it is then." Kamilah said, unable to stop herself from laughing with the children.

* * *

From then on, Adawiyah lived with them. And after only a month, it was as if she'd always been there. She was the second child that Kamilah had never had and the sibling that Altaïr had always wanted.

Altaïr and Adawiyah were so alike that it was a wonder they hadn't shared the womb. Adawiyah was two years older than Altaïr but quite a bit smaller and Altaïr was old for his age anyway and so there was no game that the two could not play together; no field that the two could not run in together and most especially, no structure that the two could not climb together.

Adawiyah was just as adventure driven as Altaïr and Kamilah had given up panicking over the two. They always looked after each other and their devotion to one another was strong enough that Kamilah didn't even feel the need to worry when they went out exploring together. Kamilah's only rule was that they needed to be back before the sun came down and they hadn't once disappointed her.

"What did you two do today then?" Kamilah asked, knowing how much the two loved to talk about their antics. And she couldn't help indulging them.

"We had a jumping contest! Didn't we Ada?" Altaïr said excitedly, looking over to Adawiyah for confirmation.

"Uh huh!" Ada replied in agreement through a mouth full of food. "And I won!" she grinned.

"Don't talk with your mouth full Ada." Kamilah chastised gently while filling her own plate with food.

She swallowed her mouth full and grinned sheepishly, "Oops, sorry."

"You did not win!" Altaïr cried in muffled indignation, his bread stuffed into his mouth, "You couldn't even jump that puddle!"

"Altaïr!" Kamilah said sharply. He swallowed quickly and barked a hasty, "Sorry mama."

"Your memory fails you Altaïr." Ada replied haughtily, taking a now dignified nibble of her bread. "You fell over when it came to jumping our final challenge, the fence. That's why you've got blood all over your knee."

"Oh you haven't, have you Altaïr?" Kamilah sighed exasperatedly, spinning on her chair to face Altaïr and pulling up his leg to rest on her lap.

"Only a little bit…" Altaïr pouted, his head turned away and his shoulders hunched in embarrassment as he sulked.

Ada grinned smugly as Kamilah bandaged Altaïr's knees, his injury proving that she in fact, had beaten him at jumping. The smugness then morphed into uncontrollable hilarity as Kamilah forced Altaïr to remove his shalwars and he had to sit there hunched over into his food in only his undergarments.

Even Kamilah was trying incredibly hard to stop her lips from twitching at Altaïr's expression; a mixture of mortification and annoyance made for one large sulking session as he sat there and listlessly stabbed his food, looking as if he wished it were Ada's head.

The last few morsels of food were eaten in silence before the sound of Kamilah's chair scraping against the tiles broke the stillness and she walked around the table collecting the plates, enlisting Ada's help to wash up as Altaïr traipsed upstairs with all the dignity and silence of an irate camel.

Ada and Kamilah shared a little giggle at his expense as they washed up, only wiping the smile off their faces when they could hear Altaïr coming back down the stairs, his feet thumping unenthusiastically on the creaky wood, muffled ever so slightly by the new pair of shalwars he'd yanked on.

"Come on you two, it's time to go." Kamilah called out, breaking the quiet.

"What?" They groaned in perfect unison.

"Don't give me that. We're going to Yasmin's, remember?"

"Oh yeah." They replied again together.

Their timing was almost perfect, pre-meditated even. Not that Kamilah thought either of them could pre-meditate themselves out of a linen sack.

She threw the dish cloth across the room onto the side board and walked purposefully to the door, two children in tow. She gently closed the front door, not bothering to lock it and the three of them descended down the little incline to get to the main road for the half an hour walk across the city to Yasmin's house.

* * *

"Yasmin, it's so good to see you again. How are you?" Kamilah asked, smiling as she looked upon the friend whom she had not seen for many months, remembering each line in her face and her wild, mousy brown hair.

"Oh Kamilah! Why, it's been an age has it not!" Her kind eyes glanced down to the two small figures standing amongst Kamilah's legs; a young boy who she knew was Altaïr, the beautiful child whom she herself had delivered almost seven years ago now; how fast that time had flown. There was another child though; a girl. Only a bit taller than Altaïr with spindly limbs and long brown hair strewn haphazardly about her shoulders.

Kamilah suddenly picked up on Yasmin's gaze and delivered a long overdue introduction.

"Yasmin. This is Adawiyah. She's a new addition to our little family." She smiled but with a look in her eyes that asked Yasmin not to ask any questions, yet.

Kamilah had both her hands on Ada's shoulders and pushed her gently forward. "Ada, this is Yasmin, my dear friend for almost seven years."

"How do you do?" Yasmin asked kindly but Ada could only nod and smile. She didn't like meeting new people very much. She always got very nervous. This was in complete contrast with Altaïr who readily strode into the hallway after giving Yasmin a big hug. He very much liked this lady who had 'delivered' him – whatever that meant – as she was kind and always slipped him extra honey cake.

"Well, come in, come in! Zafir will be thrilled to see you have dropped by." She turned around and shimmied through the hall, followed by one exuberant child who waltzed in on his own and one other needing to be pushed by her shoulders into the wide room, with Kamilah taking up the rear, her hands gently coaxing Ada in the correct direction.

* * *

Amidst the raucous calls of excitable children from upstairs, Kamilah and Yasmin attempted to have a conversation.

"You say you _found_ Adawiyah?" Yasmin asked incredulously, taking a huge bite of an oat biscuit.

Kamilah made an affirmative sound through a mouthful of crumbs.

"Intriguing." Yasmin mused, washing down her biscuit with a bowl of tea.

"Indeed, and we're not really completely sure where she's come from."

"She's an orphan I suppose?" asked Yasmin.

"Unfortunately yes." Said Kamilah sadly, "But she is like my own now. I could not think of a better person for Altaïr to be with as he grows up. It doesn't matter who she was or where she came from. It doesn't matter to either of us." She smiled and Yasmin noticed the beautiful colour of her deep chocolate eyes; eyes that spoke of worldly experience far more advanced than her tender years. She was but twenty three. Altaïr had inherited those very same eyes but his sparkled with youth and experience was something yet to come for him.

Yasmin's mind wandered – as it often did – to the enigma that was Kamilah. To have a child so young... She knew that she should have probably been scandalised that a girl without a husband had become pregnant before her seventeenth birthday but looking at the beautiful boy (In both personality and looks) that Altaïr had become made her whole heartedly support Kamilah. There was also something about Kamilah herself; just laying eyes on her was enough to see that she wasn't an immoral girl. She was strong and wilful but kinder than any other person she'd met.

Although, Yasmin was still itching to know how Kamilah had come to beget Altaïr. A romantic tryst? A tragic tale of a lost love? Whatever it was, Yasmin bet it would be juicy. And she loved juicy gossip. '_Speaking of gossip…_' she thought….

"Have you heard Kamilah?" Her voice taking on a hushed quality that Kamilah instantly realised was the tone reserved for scandalous gossip of epic proportions. "That there has been a spate of gruesome killings not far from here?"

'_This is quite epic…_' Kamilah though to herself. "No, not at all. What has happened?" Kamilah asked interestedly.

"Why, nothing short of the worst crimes Hebron has ever seen!" Yasmin replied, her hands gesticulating in time with her words. She loved to be the first to inform someone of something and she quite often got very excited doing so.

"They say it is a band of six. Six men who come in the middle of the night and steal all your worldly goods before destroying the evidence…"

"The evidence being…?"

"Why, the people of course." Said Yasmin sinisterly. "So far there have been four reported cases. And no new leads."

"Why, that _is_ quite worrying." Kamilah frowned.

"Normally I would say not to worry but in fact, it is rather disturbing." Yasmin grimaced, resting her hands in her lap.

After a short pause she said, "In fact, the most recent one I've heard about happened less than a mile from here…"

A faint shiver crawled up Kamilah's spine in response.

"You don't say…" She said quietly, mulling this over in her head. She hadn't heard any of this before now and she couldn't deny that it was a worrying thought.

Kamilah shook her head of such thoughts and stood up saying, "Ah, Yasmin, we have encroached upon your hospitality for too long. We must be leaving now as it's getting late."

"So soon?" Yasmin replied, getting up from her seat as well.

"I'm afraid so, yes." Kamilah said with a smile. "Ada! Altaïr!" She called, walking to the foot of the stone steps. She was rewarded with the thump of heavy footsteps taking the stairs two at a time, and in no time, both children were by her side grinning.

"Thank you Yasmin." They said in unison, "For the toys to play with." Altaïr finished.

"Not at all dears." She smiled kindly.

Kamilah kissed her soft cheek and thanked her for her hospitality before –in light of her recent discovery about the killings – gripped Ada and Altaïr's hand tightly in her own.

Yasmin frowned as she watched the three walked out into the pitch black night, only a few street lamps lighting the way; they would be easy pickings for anyone. She violently shook her head at the thought; she couldn't allow herself to think these things.

* * *

"Ugh, I hate night time." Kamilah muttered under her breath, her joking concealing more deep set fears of the darkness then she let on to her children. She didn't admit it, even to herself, but she'd never disliked the darkness until that night. In fact, she'd loved it. Its ethereal calmness and quiet with nothing but chirping insects for company. She felt very different now. The calmness unnerved her and the lack of people that she'd once so enjoyed now made her feel alone and fearful.

"Why mama?" Altaïr asked inquisitively looking up at her with what little light there was reflecting off his eyes, "There's no reason to be afraid. It can't do anything to you." He finished simply.

She laughed shakily at the adult wisdom in his voice but still gripped onto his hand a little tighter.

"You're right of course," She stated, shivering at the chill wind that snaked through the small alleys, "but I've never really liked it…"

"It's not the darkness you should be afraid of, but the people _in_ the darkness." Ada piped up, her clear, high voice ringing through the night air.

Kamilah hadn't expected such a statement from Ada, no matter how wise she looked and her mouth hung agape slightly. But, strangely, it did make her feel much better. Ada was so incredibly right that she could almost laugh at her own stupidity.

She gave Ada's hand a squeeze in response and smiled, even though none of them could see the other well enough to know that she was doing so.

When they reach the door, Kamilah almost sighed in relief, pushing it open and ushering the children through. When they were in, she surreptitiously turned around and locked and bolted the door.

Something she had never done before.

* * *

_Argh! My readers! I'm so sorry it has been so long! I started school again and everything has been hectic. Because I'm now doing A Levels the work load has like….quadrupled since last year! I'm just drowning in Spanish essays and classic English literature :P I hope you can forgive me because the updates are going to be a little slower from now on. whips up shield Don't hurt me!_

_And thank you to all reviewers of last chapter and all readers in fact, because we've just POWED straight through 20,000 hits! You guys are awesome :D_

**Bloutije **I love Altaïr is a kid and yeah, Kamilah has definitely got some patience. :D

**MusicalSoul **Haha, puts your jaw back up I'll always correct stuff and take suggestions :D And I'm so OCD about grammar and spelling so those should always be good. And no worries about rambles! I love rambles!

**Elise **Thanks and I'm really glad you like background stuff, I hope it doesn't detract too much And don't you worry! All will be revealed ;) No rock of Altaïr's past will be left un-turned!

**Your Most Enjoyable Night Mare **I do want your eternal love! snuggles the eternal love I'm sorry about your withdrawal, I hope this chapter will keep it at bay for a little bit! And I'm keeping an open mind about a sequel but as of yet, I haven't got a plot. I will work it though, I don't want this story to end either!

**Rachel **I'm so glad I could have inspired you and even if you don't post it, it's great that you've written it and enjoyed it. It could lead to greater things :D Like a posted story ;)

**Kraele and Bremon **I think her hearts just about strong enough to survive, but I don't think mine would have! Yeah…schools an intrusive biatch… grumbles to herself

**Xostormy **Yeah, don't worry, we'll get back to the main story line soon enough and all will be revealed!

**AltairLover **Yeah, I think he's a happy little sausage :D But my lips are sealed. And I'll try and make them longer, thanks for telling me. :)

**Kelsem **Yeah, there is a special place in my heart for Kamilah :D

**NeverLookBackSamurai **Thank you so much! I'm really glad you're enjoying it and you've stuck with it, I really hope it keeps you interested all the way to the end :) And yeah, I'm sorry, Altaïr often runs away in my imagination :P I'll try and reign us both in! Hehe….


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 23**

_AUTHOR'S NOTES ARE HERE FOR TODAY!_

_Hey guys :D I've decided to stick it all here today because I feel that putting it at the end (of this chapter in particular) could kind of ruin the mood. _

_I'm really sorry for the delay, AS Levels are mental! Literally mental, I have way to much work to be getting on with! Does anyone want to tell me the fundamental differences between a Prokaryotic and a Eukaryotic cell….? No? Anybody…?_

_And thanks to BMFBagels – who warned me that this whole thing could be deleted if I kept on replying to reviews in the main chapters and that would be horrendous! Thank you so much BMFBagels! So, thanks to all reviewers, I'll reply to you all individually! (Well, try to!) And if there are any errors in this chapter, please do tell me. It's just because I haven't spent as long proof reading this one as I have done the others. _

* * *

Despite his young age, Altaïr often found himself contemplating confusing material, such as, _'If I were to jump off the roof, how much would it hurt if I hit the ground flat?_' or '_Does it hurt if a girl gets kicked in-between the legs?_' (He had since found the answer to that after a miss-aimed kick at a stone ended up with Ada sprawled on the floor. She'd since concluded that, yes, indeed, it _did _hurt rather a lot.)

But today, the only thing on his mind was cake. And plenty of it.

"Happy Birthday darling!" Kamilah gushed, whirling into the kitchen and picking him up, swinging him around the room in a lung crushing hug.

"Thanks mama!" He grinned, but feeling slightly safer when his feet were firmly on the ground.

Altaïr was seven. An imposing age in the grand scheme of things, and the little thrust forward of his chest showed that he was loving every minute of this fine age.

"Happy Birthday!" Ada joined in, her soprano voice flowing over the busy sounds of Kamilah happily whistling while exuberantly mixing cake ingredients together.

"What did you get me Ada?" Altaïr asked expectantly.

She gave him a perfunctory slap on the head. "You can't ask such questions, silly." She scolded, arms crossed across her chest, "You have to wait and see."

"You're no fun!" He sighed, giving his head an absent minded rub.

"But don't worry, it will be good." She winked, tapping her nose at the same time.

"Okay, while I do this, will you guys check on the cows?" Kamilah asked, still facing her work surface and mixing vigorously.

"But mama!" Altaïr said indignantly, "'tis my birthday!"

"I know darling, but if the cows don't rest then we mustn't either! Go!"

The children walked out the door, leaving Kamilah feeling strangely elated at the prospect of Altaïr's birthday. Perhaps it was wonderment that she had managed to raise a child, when she sometimes felt only a child herself. She would include Ada in that, except that she felt Ada didn't need raising. Ada raised herself. Kamilah only watched on. But whatever the reason, she was looking forward to the coming day as much as the children.

After only fifteen minutes, she could hear the excited chatter of the pair as they walked back indoors, wiping their shoes on the ground just outside and cursing Nabile good-naturedly. She hadn't expected them back so quickly, but it made sense given that they could both milk the cows at the same time and that Ada's fine tutelage had made Altaïr a far more competent milker. But however good he was, he made sure to avoid Nabile and it was now Ada's job to milk that foul tempered beast.

By now, the cake was in the oven and the three of them played games and exchanged presents. Kamilah had brought Altaïr a set of metal soldiers that he'd wanted for quite some time, after seeing them in the market last month. However Ada was not ready to give her present yet, no matter how much Altaïr protested. She stoically shook her head and told him to be patient.

"It's extra special because this is the first birthday you've had with me here, so I made sure to make it worth it." She smiled cryptically, sitting down cross-legged in some semblance of a circle with Kamilah in front of her and Altaïr to her left.

"And actually," Kamilah started, "I've got another present for you."

"Another one?!" Altaïr cried gleefully, "Even though you've already given me one?"

"I think a boy of such a grand age as seven deserves at least two presents, no?" She asked, smiling broadly at him as she offered opened hands to both children, to lead them to where Altaïr's other present was.

Altaïr's mind was running over time. '_What on earth could it be?_' he asked himself, mentally flicking through all the shopping trips he'd had with his mama in the last couple of months, trying to remember if he'd ever expressed an interest in anything other than the soldiers. The only other thing he'd ever wanted was a…

"HORSE!?" He cried, catching a glimpse of a shiny rump and a swishing tale in the pen behind the barn that his mama had just lead him to.

Kamilah only smiled and let go of his hand as he ran with a fleet footedness that even the wind herself would envy. Ada just stood wide-eyed next to Kamilah as Altaïr appeared from behind the barn with a lead-rope in his hand, pulling behind him the most beautiful shiny mahogany horse she'd ever seen. He was only small, still a young foal but with the potential to be a stunning stallion in later life.

Altaïr's eyes were glazed over with intense gratefulness and he almost couldn't find the words to thank his mother. The horse's head came up to just above his own and it nipped at his hair as he led it towards Ada and his Mama.

"Mama, thank you so much." He cried exuberantly, dropping the lead-rope briefly into Ada's hand and hugging Kamilah vigorously.

"You're welcome darling." She released him and crouched down to his level. "He is a young Arab of only 2 and a half, newly broken in." She informed him. She in fact knew a lot more than simply his age and his riding status. She had checked every single credential this horse had, that she felt as if she'd been interviewing the poor thing for a job.

She decided to buy Altaïr a horse, after much deliberation, as seven was a very pliable age to start learning to ride well. Altaïr already knew the basics and was in fact very good but it was time for him to have a horse of his own, instead of the old nag Kamilah has taught him on, who didn't even belong to them.

However, the steps to buy him one had been complicated. She was worried that buying a male would be too dangerous and that he would be hard to handle and difficult to ride for such a young boy but the reputable stables that she'd purchased this foal from had assured her that all their horses –male or not – had calm and suitable temperaments for any rider.

He did seem very calm and he was very friendly, rubbing his muzzle up against Ada and Altaïr's face as they cooed over him.

"What will you call him?" Ada asked, breaking Kamilah from her reverie, laughing as the horse stuck out his tongue to try and reach her cheek.

"Hmm…" Altaïr mused thoughtfully, running through potential names in his head. "How about Nader?" He liked the way it flowed of the tongue and it was the first thing that had popped into his head.

"I think it suits him, actually." Replied Ada.

"I like it too." Agreed Kamilah, "Nader it shall be."

The horse seemed to like the name too, as he whinnied and flicked his ears back and forth in response to Altaïr calling him.

Kamilah managed to drag Altaïr away from Nader for long enough to show him the new saddle and bridle she'd bought for him also and to show him how to properly tack up. Nader stood surprisingly patiently as Altaïr fumbled his way through adjusting saddles and putting bridles on. The only part Nader wasn't so keen on was the bit and it took a lot of coaxing to keep it in his mouth.

Kamilah and Ada watched from the fence as Altaïr trotted around with the countenance of a king; so happy was he with his new present. '_Definitely better than the toy soldiers'_, he thought to himself.

Ada happened to be thinking the same thing.

"How am I to beat such a present?" She sighed good naturedly, but her voice tinged with true disappointment.

"Ada darling, I've seen what you've made for him and I think it's more beautiful than any horse. You put so much effort into it that he will not fail to love it. He will treasure it as he now treasures Nader."

"I hope so." She smiled wistfully, feeling slightly better as she leant her chin on the fence and watched Altaïr run circles around the field, shuddering slightly at the thought of horse riding. She loved horses but had no desire to be atop of one, not that she'd ever tried. It just looked so unstable.

Altaïr spent so much of his birthday atop Nader that by the evening, his mama had to physically lift him off the horse because he couldn't move his legs properly. A few stretches around the field had sorted that problem out but he was still sore from the unnatural position he'd held for so long.

Once they were safely back inside, Kamilah cooked them their favourite meal and Ada took advantage of the quiet time and gave Altaïr with her present.

"Here you go." She said nonchalantly, dropping her wrapped present into his hand as if she didn't care, when in fact, it was of great important to her that he liked it. She tried to look cool as he unwrapped it but found herself craning her head close to see his reaction.

Altaïr pulled apart the delicate pieces of tissue paper haphazardly but treated the present inside as if it was a fragile piece of glass. Wrapped among the fold of tissue was a pendant, which at first – when he has only seen the leather cord – Altaïr was unsure of. Only girls wore jewellery. But as he studied the actual pendant itself, he was overcome with gratitude towards Ada.

Ada had moulded a perfect little eagle; its wings unfurled either side of its body. The tiny eyes of the eagles were minute shards of black stone that glittered like beetles. Its talons were unfurled as if it was ready to swoop down on some unsuspecting rodent and she'd even carved the texture of the bird's wings as if real feathers resided there. It was only fashioned out of clay but Altaïr treated it as if it was made of pure gold.

"Your name does mean 'Flying One' after all." She said off-hand as the reasoning behind such a gift.

"It's amazing Ada!" He burst out, "I had no idea you had any redeeming qualities but you're a pretty good artist."

"Watch it." She sniffed indignantly.

"But thank you, really." He said seriously, carefully putting the pendant around his neck. It was cold at first but soon warmed to match the temperature of his skin and become a calming weight against his collar bone.

With present giving over and both Altaïr and Ada full of various sweet foods that would no doubt rot their teeth, Kamilah felt it was time they went to bed. In no time at all, both children fell into a contented sleep after the enjoyment of the day.

No doubt the last contented sleep either would fall into again.

:

It was at midnight that the robbers came.

Kamilah woke quickly from her light sleep to a soft clicking she couldn't place. It was a light, metallic sound coming from downstairs and a sound she wasn't used to. It took her a gut wrenching ten seconds to work out that it was the sound of a lock being picked. She felt her blood run cold and an almost painful chill of terror ran down her spine as she realised that her house was being broken in to.

With fleet footedness and silence begot of her youth, Kamilah jumped out of bed and gently woke the two children sleeping peacefully on the floor.

They woke bleary eyed and disorientated, rubbing their fists over their barely open eyes as they looked without truly seeing, trying to focus on Kamilah's face.

"Altaïr, Ada." She whispered urgently, "Be silent."

Her tone immediately caused the children to sit up and take notice, instantly awake as they looked imploringly at her to discern what was wrong.

Ada had a sudden feeling of dread as she looked at Kamilah's face reflected in the moonlight and caught the subtle clatter of a sound she knew well: a lock being picked.

Altaïr had yet to work out anything and still looked on confused.

Kamilah's mind was working over time. How could she get the two out? She mentally judged the drop from the one window in the room but admitted in defeat that it was probably too far for either of them to get away without some kind of injury that may prevent them from fleeing further.

Her stomach plummeted sickeningly as she heard the front door give way and the soft pad of multiple footsteps. Altaïr heard them too and his confusion increased tenfold while Ada's fear only mounted.

"Darling, there are people in the house." She murmured urgently to Altaïr, who had yet to realise the gravity of the full situation.

"We're being robbed?" He asked, his brows knit together with worry that didn't suit his young face.

Kamilah nodded grimly. "Probably." She confirmed.

Kamilah opened her arms and held the children's hand as she retreated to the bed to formulate a plan. She must have waited three minutes listening with horrifying clarity to the antics going down below. There was the distinct murmur of masculine voices and the splitting of wood as the men below ripped up the floorboards. Kamilah felt a twinge of triumph with the knowledge that these moral less men wouldn't get much. She'd spent it all on Altaïr's new horse.

Meanwhile, downstairs, the men _were _annoyed.

"This is a complete dud." One of the men groaned, collecting only a few coins from beneath the floorboards and pocketing them.

"Yeah but it's an easy target." Another man reasoned. "I saw the lot walking home the other day. A woman on 'er own an' two kids. Easy."

"I suppose." The man conceded gruffly.

"But wait a second," A different man said, "do you mean to tell me that they're still 'ere?"

"Yeah. They're no doubt upstairs pissin' themselves." One man chuckled cruelly, flexing his brutish fist. "They must know we're 'ere by now."

Kamilah, in the interim, had run silently to the window, remembering with a glimmer of hope, the cart that she'd moved around to the side of the house. It was full of hay she'd purchased for Nader but it could provide a soft landing spot if they were to use it to cushion their fall. She threw open the window and peered outside, hope and triumph welling up inside of her as she saw the pile of soft hay right beneath the window sill.

"Altaïr, Ada, come here." She whispered imperatively and in no time the two children were silently either side of her.

"Climb up here." She said, patting the window sill.

"What are we doing Mama?" Altaïr asked, his voice quaking slightly.

"Don't be scared my love." Kamilah soothed softly, "We'll be fine. Take my hands." She wrapped her hands firmly around his and got him to lever himself off the window sill until it was only her clutching him away from gravity's unrelenting will.

"You've done this thousands of time my Darling, only now, I'm actually letting you." She said soothingly with a smile in her voice, but with an overwhelming sense of urgency behind it all.

She let go of his little arms and desperately watched, not even blinking, for the second it took him to fall with a thump into the soft hay. He gave her the thumbs up to show he was alright and she sighed heavily in relief, her heart pumping erratically with fear.

"Ada darling, come quick."

Ada lithely sat down on the sill when all of a sudden, without any warning, the thumping of footsteps became instantly louder and the door flew open with enough force to dent the wall behind. Kamilah couldn't stop herself from focusing upon the plaster that crumbled inconsequentially to the floor.

With blind panic, she turned to face the one man who had come upstairs to check for things to take, shielding Ada who was sitting wide-eyed with fear on the wooden sill of the open window that was blowing cold early morning air into the room.

The first thought the man had was how pathetically small this room was and how unlikely there would be anything good to find. The second was how stunning this woman in front of him was and how the rapid rise and fall of her chest with fear, excited him. But he had to stick to the task at hand.

"While you're still alive, would you kindly tell me where your valuables are?" the mock politeness in his gruff voice made him even more menacing to the two petrified women.

Down below in the garden, Altaïr was panicking. He'd heard the thump of footsteps and the smashing of the door as it opened but neither Ada nor his Mama had made the appearance through the window that he so desired. He hid behind the cart, crouching down and shivering with the cold, able to now hear every word that was passing between his Mama and the man.

"I have nothing valuable." Kamilah spat bitterly, her voice quavering despite her best efforts.

"Well for starters, how's about the rings on your fingers?" He cooed, as if she were a small child.

Kamilah glanced down to her hands and noticed that she did indeed, still have the two simple gold bands on, that she'd been given as a child by her parents and it was with great reluctance that she pulled them off her shaking hands and deposited them in the man's gargantuan one.

"Now please just go." She pleaded, backing up against the wall and feeling Ada's small touch against her shoulder.

She'd almost forgotten that she'd failed to get Ada to safety and desperation washed over her because she wouldn't be able to get her out the window safely now. She felt sick with fear and an unwanted sense of failure ran through her.

"Ha, I 'aint going 'til I've actually got something worth gettin' out of bed for." He snorted derisively. "And so far, these rings just 'aint cuttin' it."

So many things were running through Kamilah's head. Did she try and get Ada out the window? Or did she pick her up and attempt to dive under this man's arms? He was stockily built and covered almost the whole doorway. She didn't fancy her chances there and tears of frustration were pricking her eyes like hot needles. She only wanted to get Ada out of here. Altaïr, she was sure, was already safe. But there was nothing else for it. She nudged Ada surreptitiously and indicated for her to climb onto her back. Ada picked up on it quickly and clambered on without so much as twitching.

Ada felt surprisingly calm in such a situation; she didn't feel much at all. She wasn't even scared of dying at this point. Kamilah's will for survival on the other hand, was strong enough to be almost tangible. _'No'_, she corrected. It was her will for her children to survive. Once Ada was safe with Altaïr, she would be happy.

She took a step towards the man. "Please let us go, and you can have whatever you want from this house."

"Sorry, no can do. You've seen too much." He said simply. As simply as if he was discussing anything but Kamilah and Ada's forthcoming death.

"Although, I must say, I'm tempted to keep you." He continued, indicating to Kamilah with a nod of his head.

Kamilah clung on to this only life line with all the desperation of a drowning person.

"Fine then. If you let this girl go, you can have me."

The man stopped and looked genuinely surprised. "You're willing to sell your body to me if I let that wench go?" he asked incredulously, looking as if he was being handed an exquisite gift on a platter.

Kamilah clenched her stomach in response to its violent churnings at this notion.

"Yes."

Ada gasped and clutched on to Kamilah tighter. "No, don't do it." She whispered almost inaudibly into her ear.

"I must." Kamilah replied under her breath, tears falling down her cheeks in single lines.

The man hadn't noticed this two line exchange and seemed to be considering Kamilah's proposition.

"Fine then. Both of you come downstairs with me."

Kamilah gulped and took a shaky step forward with Ada clutched firmly to her back. Ada's cheeks were wet with tears. Kamilah was offering herself up as ransom for her. She felt so guilty she almost wished the man would just kill her now.

Kamilah walked down the wooden staircase into the kitchen and pressed herself and Ada close up against the wall, trying to avoid the stares of the men whom were ripping up her house.

"The woman has said she'll come with us and be our whore if we let the little wench go." The man spoke up.

"You what?!" one of the men said incredulously. "She agreed to that while looking at your ugly mug?" The men laughed raucously and Kamilah felt sick with hatred.

The deep voice of a man came from the corner and by the rich timbre of his voice; he was the leader of this gang.

"She will not be anyone's whore. However, she will come with us and we can sell her. She'll fetch a handsome sum back in our home country. Enough so that we won't have to keep on doing this." He said sourly, his hand sweeping the destroyed area in front of him to indicate what he was referring to.

"Drop the girl." He said imperatively, boring into Kamilah's eyes with his own.

Kamilah whispered under her breath to the precious cargo on her back.

"Ada. I need you to run. Altaïr needs you. And no matter what happens after they've let you go, you will not turn back. No matter how hard Altaïr fights. You will not come back." Her voice cracked and she could no longer keep her composure as she lowered Ada to the floor.

Ada nodded her head firmly.

"Actually, we'll keep the girl too." He said as an afterthought, just as Ada's tip-toes touched the floor.

"NO!" Kamilah screamed, clutching Ada to her chest, "You have promised me!"

"Yes, well, I've changed my mind. You're both in working order and will fetch good sums at the slave market."

Her last life line slipped through her fingers and she felt the harsh weight pressing into her lengths, cutting off her air.

"You are despicable." Kamilah spat with such loathing that it felt almost unnatural on her tongue.

The leader ignored her and turned away from Kamilah, directing his next words to his men. "Come now, we've exhausted all possible hiding places here. This woman has no money. But we can sell her and her daughter so we'll make up for the losses."

"I will not come with you unless you let the girl go." Kamilah said.

"Yes. You will." He said flippantly, as if dealing with naughty children.

He gave a flick of his head and the men grabbed Kamilah and Ada roughly, throwing them over their shoulders like sacks of grain. Kamilah screamed as loudly as she could but in no time, she was unconscious, gagged and bound, a brute of a man having delivered a sharp punch to the temple. Ada was too shocked to make a sound but she was gagged and bound anyway, handled roughly until there were finger marks all over her forearms.

Altaïr had been watching for the last ten minutes and had seen everything. He'd watched as his beloved mother was knocked out and as his sister was tied up. He wanted with all his heart to kill every single man there but he could do nothing. His eyes were blurred with tears and his palms were bloodied where he'd cut into them with his nails. In that instant, as Ada was thrown over one of the man's shoulders, he caught her eye. She gave one single shake of her head.

'_Do not try to help us.'_

It was as clear as if she had shouted it to him. And his heart plummeted with such force he felt like being sick. He tried to tell her that he loved her with his eyes but all that happened was that more tears leaked out. She indicated for him to go, before their contact was broken once the men started moving. They all silently exited the house; one holding an unconscious Kamilah and another holding Ada. They turned back to face the building and then a light danced suddenly in the air. One of the men carelessly threw the torch onto the roof and the thatch instantly caught fire, as if it was put there only to burn.

Altaïr watched in horror and crawled helplessly back from his vantage point by the window, moving around until he was behind a tree opposite the path that led from his house. The group of men set off as if they were doing nothing more than going down to the local inn. They mounted their horses and were gone as swiftly as they had come. Kamilah and Ada with them.

It was the last Altaïr would ever truly see of them.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

_Hey guys! Sorry for the long wait in between updates but you know the drill! School is evil. Anyhow, I wanted to get this up because I'm leaving for a holiday to Japan! I've never been there before but I've been dying to go for years and now, finally I am! It's the first holiday I've gone on in about 6 or 7 years so I'm really excited! I'm sorry if I haven't replied to anyone's review, I will do my best to do so as soon as I come back! Please review after you've read this _

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Altaïr sat crumpled under the tree numbly; he looked at his palms in the moonlight for want of something to do and for a split second marvelled at the colour of dried blood. Then, the internal battle with himself came to an end out he jumped up, running to Nader's field in seconds. With tears burning his eyes, he tried to saddle Nader up but his little hands fumbled and failed regularly. With despair he realised he was too short to reach the stirrups unaided and – conscious of every second that his mother and sister were slipping away from him – dragged Nader to a the fence so he could climb on.

He yanked hard on Nader's bit and pulled him in a full turn, ready to ride at full speed towards the gang of men. But just as his heels rose up to jab Nader in the stomach, he stopped, mollified. He may have been blinded by fear, sadness and revenge but common sense was battling its way through with all conceivable effort. What would he do once he'd caught them up? Save both his mother and his sister from six adult men? He was only seven. '_To think I thought it was such a good age…_' he said to himself bitterly. Altaïr decided to be stealthy and so he kicked Nader into an urgent trot and descended down onto the main road, his heart beating violently like a trapped bird in a net.

They had left ten minutes previously but Altaïr did not want them to catch up. He didn't want them to know he was there. The prospect of being caught was almost as terrifying as the prospect of losing his family. But suddenly, he had an idea. He was going to be stupid and he was going to be reckless and if his mama knew what he was planning she'd be furious.

If his mother and sister were to be slaves, then so would he. At least that way he could be with them. With his mind set he walked a little faster; he at least wanted to be able to see their backs and with his acute eyesight, he didn't have to be close for it.

It was another two minutes before he came over the crest of a hill and could see their backs swaying with the gait of the horses. He took a second to be shocked that they were only walking when they had committed such a heinous crime. In a few more minutes, he was just in ear shot. They were silent for a long time but then suddenly, he caught a line of a conversation.

"Oi, which one of you louts knocked this woman out?" one man called, his grimy fist clasping Kamilah's cheeks and turning her head from side to side as if he was inspecting her for purchase or damage. It made Altaïr's blood boil to see him touch her.

"I did." A man with a deep voice replied. He had an extraordinarily broad back and highly muscled arm. A brute of a man if Altaïr had ever seen one.

"You're an idiot." The other man spat vehemently, dropping Kamilah's head and letting it loll to the side, limp, her hair flowing out around her as she lay awkwardly in front of this man on the pommel of his saddle.

"She's dead!"

Altaïr's already white face suddenly drained of any colour and he even heard Ada whimper a small, "No!", audible even through her gag.

"She's what?!" The men all seemed to shout at once.

"Dead I tell you." The man said appalled, looking at her and shaking his head as her body lay in front of him. "That idiot socked her so hard in the head that he killed her."

"I don't believe it!" One of the men cried in disappointment. "And she was going to fetch so much as well!"

Altaïr's fists where white and quaking on the bridle and Nader's ears were pressed down nervously at the change in his rider's disposition. Altaïr could barely see for tears; barely hear for the painful silence and numbness that overtook his body; barely feel for the overwhelming agony that passed through him as they men continued to speak of his mama as if she were nothing more than a recently broken commodity. Something that could be replaced or thrown out.

The deep, commanding timbre of their leader suddenly rang out.

"Are you sure she is dead?"

The man pressed two grimy fingers deep into her throat. "Yup. There 'ain't nothin' there."

"Well then, we must get rid of her. She'll only be dead weight otherwise. 'Tis such a shame though. She was our best prize yet. Many men would have paid a fortune for her as a slave. From now on Aban…" He said, turning to face the brutish man, "You will not be so forceful when you knock people out. Understand?"

"Yes," he said begrudgingly, "I understand."

"Good. Then let's get rid of her."

Altaïr's insides twisted with sorrow and seething anger as the man with his mama in front of him pulled off her gag and arm ties before simply stopping and levering her body off from the horse, onto the floor to fall to the dusty ground near a tree. He couldn't really see her body fall but he could hear the thump and then the soft 'tut's' of disappointment as they rode off into the distance, accompanied by Ada's soft whimpers.

Altaïr had stopped dead in the road. Too shocked to continue as he tried to process the horrific information passing through his mind. Suddenly, the full force of what had happened resounded around him and he launched himself off Nader and ran to the foot of the tree where his Mama's body lay crumpled.

"Mama?" He tried, his voice thick with tears, "Mama?"

He touched her cheek and smoothed the dark hair off her face, trying to remember the contours of her face and the smoothness of it. He pushed a clammy palm to her neck but felt nothing. She was as still as the beginning of dawn.

"Mama please!" He whimpered, "Mama come on, please."

She didn't respond to his pleas. She simply laid there, an almost calm expression upon her face.

"MAMA!" He shouted, smashing his small fist into the tree in frustration. A flake of bark fell onto Kamilah's cheek and with horror, he quickly thumbed it away. She had to remain perfect.

Altaïr held her hand and pulled it into him to rest on his chest as he cradled it. To another, it would look as if a mother and a child were enjoying a break under a tree.

Altaïr cradled her arm like that for an age, periodically looking over at her to see if she would suddenly wake up. But instead, she got steadily colder.

He stood up, swaying a little in shock and walked stiffly to Nader, pulling him over towards the tree where Kamilah lay lifelessly.

"Come Mama," He said, his eyes glazed over and his voice unnaturally monosyllabic. "We have to go now."

Even though his mother was petite, she was still heavier than Altaïr and he struggled to pull her by the shoulders towards Nader, pausing periodically for a laboured drag of air. He pulled Nader down by his bridle until he was laid down on all fours and managed to position Kamilah with her front on his back before he levered upwards with his knees and slid her onto Nader's back. He didn't like the way she looked on there; as if she were truly dead. But he could not move her and so she was left like that, curled over Nader's back with danger of sliding off at any point.

Altaïr began taking stiff steps forward, leading Nader and his precious cargo back home. It took a long time. Only the sound of Nader's gentle 'clip clop' and his own crying were there to keep him company. As he came close, he could see the thick black tendrils of smoke curling their way into the air, penetrating it unnaturally like a sharp sword point in soft cushion. It was his house.

The road he was on soon divided into a junction of three ways; going forward led to the main entrance of his house, going left led to another town completely, but going right led to a field behind his house. It was the latter choice that he took, for he did not want to be with anyone as he laid his mother to rest and there would be too many people at the house putting out the fire. And so he continued on this left road.

He entered the back fields, pulling Nader behind him as he walked with a sense of agonising purpose to the field behind his house where the cows sometimes wandered. It was far enough away from the house that the people there wouldn't see him, but it was close enough that his mother would be near to a place that she loved.

He stopped and pulled Nader down again, pulling Kamilah down from him and resting her on the floor, pulling off his own shirt and placing her head on it so that her beautiful hair wouldn't get dirty. He began digging.

For hours amidst the cries and shouts of the people trying to put out the burning wreck that used to be his house, he dug. Using only his hands he clawed back the mud at an alarming pace, fuelled on by a desire to see his mama laid to rest. He resented the fact that she would have to be in dirt but he could do no more. His hands were red raw and caked with mud and his hole was just up to his armpits. From there, he dug forward, lengthening the pit so his Mama could lie down properly and be comfortable. It took him hours upon hours but he was determined to do it and just as the sky began to lighten, he finished and levered himself out the hole, sitting on the edge in silence. His Mama was next to Nader, lying peacefully on the ground but with a pale and unnatural looking complexion. She was still beautiful and so he didn't stop looking at her, retaining all her features to perfection in his mind, not that he could ever forget such things.

He picked her up gently from under her arms and dragged her slowly to the pit, jumping down and then picking up her body from the side and hauling it in. He lay her down tenderly and adjusted her hair so that it was twisted up and laid over her right shoulder, flowing down beside her. He picked up her ice cold hands in his and noticed with horror that flakes of dried blood were flecked all over his palms, this time not his own. He put his hand under Kamilah's head and blood from the injury that had killed her covered his palm.

He wiped his hands on the back of his clothes so he wouldn't get her dirty and made sure that her wound was concealed with her hair instead. Her hands were lightly touching her chest and he splayed out her gown artistically so that she looked like a sleeping beauty from a portrait and not a corpse. Right at this moment, he couldn't shed a tear. He mustn't cry when there were things to be done to make his mama comfortable. He launched out the hole and ran down the field to fetch one of the bright yellow flowers that grew here, to place in her smooth, cold hands.

She was the image of perfection and he sat with her in the hole, brushing his fingers against her cheek, savouring all the time he had with her. It was light by the time he got out and the smoke from his house was beginning to diminish. He knelt down and picked up handful of dirt. But he could do nothing with it for a long while.

To throw it upon her sleeping form felt like sacrilege of the foulest order. But he could not leave her open to the elements either so, despondently, he lifted the dirt in his cupped palm and lay it down on her dress, starting at her feet. He raised another palm full of dirt and repeated the process.

Another hour passed and he was kneeling down beside a mound of newly dug ground, patting it here and there to make is smooth. When he was satisfied, he ran into the small cluster of trees to the right and found a piece of light coloured bark upon which he could carve Kamilah's grave stone.

In intense concentration, he began carving the intricate symbols of his mama's name with one of the sharp stones that littered the ground beside him. His mama had taught Altaïr to write a number of words, primarily his name, Ada's and her own. He was glad for that now.

When he was done, he carefully wedged it into the soil and then clasped his palms together to pray like his Mama had taught him.

He stood up stiffly and looked towards the house, walking closer to see the people who were still there. He noticed with dull surprise that he could see his Mama's friend Yasmin, sitting on a tree stump and crying with a man standing over her, holding her shoulder. For a second, he wondered if he should go to her. But then, another part of him roared in objection. He did not want to be with anyone now. He needed to be alone.

And so he picked up Nader's reins and walked away.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

_I cannot begin to say how sorry I am that this is so late! I took so long! I beg all my readers' forgiveness *gets down on her hands and knees* A lot of shizz happened and I just had no time for way too long. I hope I can resume normal function soon!_

_Please Read, Enjoy and Review. _

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"Oh, Altaïr, I- I had no idea." I stammered weakly. The horrors of Altaïr's childhood were almost too much for _me_ to bear. To think that he had to go through such terrible things when he was so young was so heart breaking that I felt my chest tightening.

Altaïr didn't speak for a long time after and I could not think of the words. He looked mentally exhausted and his hands were gripping the stone floor tiles unnaturally hard.

Just as I was about to suggest that he retired, he spoke: "Asra, if you do not mind, I'm going to take my leave. I will tell you the rest of my story tomorrow."

"I understand." I replied softly.

He stood up swiftly and left without another word or a backwards glance. I hung my head and hugged my knees for a long time afterwards, not wanting to think too deeply of his past. It was almost too horrible to even think of; the pain of living it must have been so much more. It was obvious that this event still hung as a weight upon his shoulders. Every man had his weakness and this was Altaïr's.

I leant my head gently back against the wall and was happy to watch the eagles soaring in the square of sky that I could see through the bureau's entrance. It made me think of the pendant he'd said his sister had made for him. He'd showed it to me, for he still kept it with him at all times.

Even now at six and twenty, he wore his childhood pendant; he took it off when bathing or on missions and kept it in a leather pouch on his waist at the back when he wasn't wearing it. It made me think of his sister Ada and I thought back to the time when I'd first asked him about his past; on the way from Jericho when we'd first met, and he'd said that his sister was long missing, probably dead. The reminder squeezed at my heart and I felt intensely sad for Ada, whom he'd obviously never found since that awful night.

I felt my eyes growing heavy and I closed them briefly, supporting my head on the wall with my back resting lightly against the cold, cooling stone. I must have fallen asleep – uncomfortably and restlessly however – because when I opened my eyes, it was dark and Nasih was standing in front of me disapprovingly.

"You two are the worst bureau leaders I've ever employed." He sniffed, walking through the entrance with me now in tow and dropping more maps onto the desk haphazardly. "You were asleep and Altaïr isn't even here."

"I'm sorry Nasih but Altaïr…felt tired." I paused, stopping myself before I said anything that I didn't feel like explaining right now.

"No matter. I'm back now; you may leave if you wish."

I took the opportunity while he offered it to me; it was preferable then having to leave later when he may deem it rude. I crossed the room slowly, going through the second entrance and then stopping next to Altaïr's door, unable to resist the temptation to check if he was alright. I knocked on the door lightly and waited but there was no response.

I pushed the well oiled door open a crack and his sleeping form was lit up by the shaft of light that fell through it. I stepped lightly towards him, expecting him to wake up any moment. But he didn't; he remained fast asleep. And for me, that was worrying; normally, he was a very light sleeper. Pushing that aside, I crouched down slowly, kissing him on the forehead and touching his cheek tentatively. He seemed troubled, even during sleep and I didn't really want to leave him. But I eventually forced myself to depart from the room, shutting the door quietly behind me and walking back through Nasih's room and then on into the main entrance to lie down under the square patch of stars in my mountain of blankets and cushions.

I felt strangely lonely as I lay there and didn't sleep for a while. I wanted to be able to see the stars while I slept but I couldn't lie on my back so all I had was a face full of blankets to contend with. It was deep into the late hours when I heard Nasih pack up and retire to his room at the back of the bureau and it was many hours after that before I finally managed to drift off.

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When I woke up the next morning there was a note on the floor beside me, Altaïr's neat tidy script adorning the front. I flung my hand out and dragged it in towards my body before fumbling around with one hand to try and un-fold it. I eventually managed and spent a second reflecting on how lazy I was that I wouldn't even raise my head off the ground to read it.

I found Arabic hard enough to read when the page was the right way up and so from my horizontal angle, the whole page was a complete mess of pictorial nonsense. With a tired sigh I heaved myself up and sat back on my knees. I was pleased to discover that the whole moving process was much easier and much less painful now; it meant that it wasn't horribly infected or healing badly. I read the note quickly and then laid it down on the floor next to me. It simply said that he'd gone out while I was asleep and that he'd be back just after noon sometime. And it was only early morning so I had a lot of time to waste.

It is amazing how bored you can get with your own company and after three trips around the bureau, four visits to the pantry – only to be greeted with nothing but dry biscuits – and a half hearted conversation with Nasih, I was sick to death of myself and longed for both Altaïr to return and the general dull ache in my back to go away. I sat down sullenly and it was as such that Altaïr found me an hour later, when he landed lithely on the floor in front of me from the rather unconventional entrance. I gave out a little gasp in momentary shock before regaining my composure and standing to greet him.

"Are you okay?" I asked quietly.

"Of course." He said perfunctorily. "Are you?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Incredibly bored but fine." I replied casually.

He raised an eyebrow in response. "I'm terribly sorry that our entertainment facilities are not up to your standards."

I was happy to see that the life seemed to have returned to his eyes. The light that I'd had to watch gradually disappear while he told his story last night. I smiled inwardly; it meant he was okay now.

"Oh never you mind. 'tis in my nature to forgive such grievous oversights." I said regally, flicking my hand in a cavalier way.

"Thank god you are so merciful." He smiled, walking towards Nasih's desk.

I paused and watched his back for a moment. "What were you doing?" I probed gently, heaving myself up and standing with one hand against the wall for balance.

"Just observing." He replied, his back still towards me. "It is my job to know what is going on in the cities at all times, no matter how small."

I let out a small, affirmative "ah," and left it at that. I bit my lip nervously when he remained standing there, busying himself with whatever was on the desk. I didn't know what I expected him to do but I wanted him to do _something_. After a few minutes, when I could no longer control myself, I stepped towards him and threw my arms around him waist, hugging my cheek into his back and holding tightly.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, almost inaudibly but knowing that he could hear me. I felt his large, warm hand close over mine on his stomach.

"I am."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." He replied, and I could tell he wasn't lying.

"I'm glad." I closed my eyes and held him for a moment more before letting my arms fall back to my sides, smiling sheepishly. He turned around and lightly curled his fingers around my chin, bending down to press a feathery kiss on my lips.

"You need not worry about me." He said it with such finality that I didn't really have a response. I just stood there stupidly while he walked around the bureau placing things on shelves are rearranging things that didn't look like they needed to be rearranged.

I sidled back to my designated wall space and sat down; something I seemed to be doing a lot these days. In fact, I was getting quite restless due to this lack of activity. What I wouldn't give to go outside for a ride. I contended myself with that little daydream for a few minutes, wondering how Khalil and Maysaa were getting on before turning to fiddling with my hands in my lap.

Oh the life of an invalid.

After what was probably an hour or so, Altaïr came to sit by me, apologising for leaving me on my own.

"Do you want to hear the rest?" He asked, looking ahead to the opposite wall, not at me.

"Yes."

* * *

How different your home city could be when you were on your own. When he was with his mama and sister, the city was big and exciting, full of people and interesting sights, awash with vivid colours; bright blue sky, brilliant white clouds, buildings that gleamed like gold, emerald green plants.

Now, Hebron seemed to have taken on a gray swash; like a star that had been blotted out. Altaïr felt and thought nothing as he wandered through streets that should have been familiar to him. The sensation of Nader's reigns in his hands was of so little consequence that he only realised he was still holding them after he'd already dropped them.

People seemed to almost sense how he felt and gave him a wide berth as he walked through the main street. He could hear smatterings of conversation, rippling through the crowds as he passed them. The urgently whispered word 'fire' came up a lot and he felt what little composure he had cracking again, so he desperately tried to drown out their monotonous voices, screwing up his eyes and gritting his teeth, a pained humming sound distracting him from other people.

But his head was too full of so many different things that he couldn't stop the painful ones from fighting their way to the front. The sounds of Ada's sobs as she was carried away would stay with him always; they would be the sound he heard in nightmares. He turned his head to the side, as if that would move him away from his own thoughts and clenched his fists tightly.

He kept walking.

_**Three months later.** _

A dirty, straggly boy darted through the street like an arrow from a bow, his bare feet glancing briefly on the dusty road, a loaf of bread clutched to his chest like a baby clutched to a mothers breast. His breathing didn't even quicken, despite such exertion and soon he came to stand by a grazing horse of the deepest mahogany, tethered to a broken section of fence on the rough edge of the city. Broken wooden fences littered the sandy floor and even the palm trees seemed slightly lack lustre in such oppressive surroundings.

The bread tucked under his arm, he walked to a crude clay bowl next to the horses muzzle and knelt over it, blowing on the surface to get rid of the seed husks and picking unidentified objects and insects out of it. For a split second, the water was still and on the surface and the boy could see his reflection.

Hollow brown eyes stared back at him and the gauntness of his cheekbones cast shadows down his face, giving him a cadaverous hue. His skin had gone shades darker due to the dirt and his hair was no longer subjected to normal downwards pull. It stuck up, dirty and greasy, at all angles, caked in mud and dust and almost solid in places where it had got knotted and he'd never bothered to do anything about it.

Altaïr's face fell and he snapped his head away so that he wouldn't have to look at himself. He focused his attention back on the loaf of bread he'd managed to cunningly steal and his eyes widened at the prospect of such a delicious meal. He bit ravenously into it, savouring the taste until Nader looked at him longingly and he felt a little stab of conscience. He grabbed the end with his fist and broke of a chunk, holding his palm out to Nader who snapped it up almost as quickly as Altaïr had. In no more than four bites, the whole loaf was gone and Altaïr sat back on his haunches, contented.

Altaïr had been homeless and penniless for almost three months and he'd been living in the slums of a city he didn't even know the name of. He'd left Hebron and simply walked. For three days he walked until he didn't even know which direction he'd come from. For the first week, not a single morsel of food touched his lips. He couldn't bring himself to eat he was so miserable. Every night for that beginning week he'd cried himself to sleep at night, his stomach growling and his heart empty, only to wake up to vicious nightmares. Only after that week did he begin to harden, his own subconscious telling how weak and pathetic he was becoming.

It was that day that he stole his first meal.

From that day forward, he'd been surviving by stealing and sleeping in a corner he'd found behind a deserted building. It was here that he and Nader called home. Altaïr no longer felt the pull of oppressiveness; he no longer felt much.

With his demanding stomach now sated, Altaïr took off again; being in one place bored him. He had no objective; he just liked to wander. He rolled up a frayed edge of his shalwars to stop him tripping over and vaulted over a low wall into an alley way before joining the main throng of people. He no longer took notice of where he walked or into whom he walked and frequently found himself knocking his shoulder into people's waists. He was at a disadvantage with his small stature; being completely unable to see when he found himself in a large crowd of people. He sidestepped and darted under the awning of a nearby merchants market, feeling claustrophobic when amongst so many people. He scanned the sight around him when a woman suddenly caught his eye. She was neither pretty, nor even very well dressed but it was her purse that piqued his interest. He couldn't help himself; it would be so easy to take; all he need do would be to unhook it off the wooden ring that attached it to her side. _It was practically asking to be stolen_, he thought to himself.

Surprisingly, it didn't take him long to convince himself and in no time he'd walked casually to the side, knocked into the women bent over the store's wares, and dexterously unhooked her purse. She wouldn't have felt a thing, nor would she notice that her purse was missing for another few minutes. Altaïr didn't even look at his hand as he walked down the road, concealed amongst that crowd, and it wasn't until much later that night – when he'd come to terms with his actions – that he investigated his findings. He ripped it open with one hand and shook the contents into the other.

It wasn't an impressive sum in reality but to him, it was a fortune and he instantly forgot any guilt he'd felt before, thinking only that his next meal could be a legal one. Of course, only legal in the sense that he would be able to give the merchants money; the means by which he'd acquired it in the first place would normally deprive one of their hand, should they be discovered. Except that the thought held no bearing for him and he didn't care.

_**A week later**_

Altaïr was what one now called a hardened criminal. He'd picked more pockets in the last week than most people could manage in a whole year. He was – by a seven year olds standards – rather rich. And so far, not one single person had even turned their head when he'd taken their purse. Of course, he'd picked his victims well and only stolen from those whose purse didn't require much looking for.

Altaïr yawned widely and smiled to himself when he rolled over and felt the small bulge of money tied around his wrist; he kept it there whenever he wasn't out. He glanced over to Nader, whose long, regal legs were locked as he dozed, tethered to the fence, and decided to leave him while he slept. Altaïr didn't normally like going out in the morning, as the crowds were too sparse for his occupation of preference. You couldn't get away with stealing without being only one amongst the crowd.

For the next few hours he wandered, buying himself a breakfast of fruit and cheese with his 'hard earned' cash. He'd been here long enough now to know his way around and so he easily walked through the streets as if his feet were leading him without his mind to help him. After another hour, the streets were full and the traders were set up for the day. It was the opportune moment. Altaïr's perfect vision picked out potential money donors in the crowd; his recently honed senses judging whether or not each person would prove an easy target.

However, he had become cocky and this would become his downfall. Except that maybe in the future, he wouldn't see it that way.

He felt a tingle of challenge dance up his spine when he caught sight of a pair of men garbed all in white with red sashes tied around their waists. He'd never tried to take two people's purses at once and he rather liked the idea of it. Both men had what could only be purses, tied to the back of their waists. It would be nothing for Altaïr to run up behind both of them, dip his hands into their bags and run away before they'd even noticed.

A spark of his youth flourished inside him and his boyishly challenging nature overtook all logical thinking. Before his brain could comprehend the full consequences of his actions, he was a metre away from the two men. With a final flex of his hand, he stepped up behind both men and plunged his hands into their belts. He felt his fist close over something purse-like and instantly yanked his hands out. But that was not before both men had instantaneously clamped their own enormous hands over his small, breakable wrists

"What do you suppose it is we have here Asadel?" One of the men asked casually, his hand effortlessly binding Altaïr to him, despite the boy's frantic thrashing.

"Do you know what, I think it may just be a pick-pocket." Asadel replied thoughtfully, his hand also held easily over Altaïr's small wrist.

"You wouldn't happen to know what the penalty for such a crime is, would you young one?" The larger man asked directly to Altaïr.

Altaïr's throat felt like a desert storm and he couldn't muster the saliva to speak properly.

"He's probably already had his tongue cut out for previous offenses." Asadel laughed to the taller man.

"I-I know what it is." Altaïr rasped pathetically. "You get your hand cut off."

"Indeed you do." The older man agreed. Asadel shook his head in some sort of feigned disappointment.

"Such a shame." He sighed. "Such a loss."

There was a certain menace in his voice that made Altaïr felt his stomach cripple but he stood tall and let the men hold his arms without further struggle.

"I'm not in a child injuring mood today." Asadel mused, "I say we take him to his parents and pretend that this whole little drama didn't happen."

"I am inclined to agree." Replied the other man.

"I have no parents."

Asadel raised an eyebrow. "Well, not only does that explain a lot but it poses quite a problem."

He leant over Altaïr's small form and started a hushed private conversation with the older man, whose face was beginning to show his age with the soft lines imprinted upon his face.

"I don't know about you Al but I can't leave this kid alone. Look at him; he's a dirty, poor street urchin. No wonder he was picking pockets. He looks and smells like he's just crawled out of the nearest waste pit."

"We have no obligation to do anything."

"I know but look at him," he tried again, glancing sympathetically to Altaïr who knew nothing of the conversation taking place. "Think of it like this; if we leave him here to rot, he'll only turn to crime again and it will probably escalate to more serious crimes. That would be a danger to the people we fight for."

The older man sighed at Asadel's soft nature; there was no place for kindness such as Asadel's in Masyaf. However, there was truth in Asadel's words, even if he didn't really care what happened to the scummy boy beside him, whose wrist was still locked, chafing, in his hand.

Asadel could see he was breaking down his barriers of indifference and smiled to himself.

"What do you propose we do with him then?" the older man sighed impatiently, eager to simply get home and take a well deserved bath.

"Let's take him to Masyaf." Asadel replied, his voice lower and quieter. "He can be my servant if you do not wish to take responsibility for him with me."

The older man sighed irritably. He did not like the idea of taking anyone to Masyaf.

"As long as he is your responsibility and yours alone." He relinquished, but still with an edge of the superiority that came with higher ranks.

'_As if his natural imposing nature wasn't enough_.' Asadel thought to himself before grinning keenly and replying: "Wonderful." He then turned to Altaïr and spoke:

"You are coming with us boy. We won't hurt you but if you don't come then we will not allow you to leave alive." Asadel felt bad at the sight of the boys face crumbling at his words. But to his credit, the boy did not cry.

"What am I to do?" Altaïr said shakily through gritted teeth.

"You will be my servant." The younger man replied.

Altaïr couldn't stop the look of shock from flashing over his face. A servant? He inwardly gave a huge sigh of relief and Asadel felt his little body suddenly un-tense, the boy's wrists relaxing in his grasp.

"You have a mount?" Asadel asked.

"I do." Altaïr replied firmly.

"I shall come with you and collect him. Then we will depart."

"I will be by the main gate." The older man said before swiftly turning on his heel and dissipating into the crowd.

Altaïr's original relief had turned into nervousness and uncertainty. But he resolutely decided that anything would be better than having his hand cut off, or death. He felt uneasy about how fast the day had turned; one moment, he was minding his own business in the street as usual and the next, he had been delegated menial tasks by a man who had no reason to hold any affinity towards him. Not only that but he was required to move again.

Altaïr looked up surreptitiously at his new master beside him; he looked around five and thirty with dark stubble around his square jaw and rather kind eyes that hadn't always seemed to fit his words.

As the boy let him around the corner, Asadel groaned at the sight of the squalor he was living in. There was rubbish and broken debris strewn all over the floor and, wedged between the crumbling wall of a disused building and a wooden fence, there was a pile of tattered blankets, compacted down with the small imprint of a child upon it, where Altaïr had lain down at night.

With a heavy heart, Asadel watched the boy root around the blankets, checking for any items he may have forgotten. The boy then turned away and walked to the magnificent horse tethered to a bit of broken fence, taking his reins in his small fist and then coming to face Asadel again.

"I am ready." Altaïr said.

As the boy came to stand beside him, Asadel noticed a pouch hanging from his wrist. Before Altaïr could even blink, he had yanked the pouch off his wrist and was studying it in his hands.

"Oi!" Altaïr shouted indignantly, jumping up and making a valiant effort to retrieve his stolen money. Asadel merely swatted him away like a bug.

"More of your 'winnings' eh, boy?"

"So what." Altaïr spat, taking a step back from the man's hand and staring at him.

"When you are in Masyaf, there will be no stealing." Asadel explained, "Or I will personally cut your hand off and wrap it up for you to keep."

Altaïr took another step back.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes." Altaïr replied, his voice quivering ever so slightly.

"Good." Asadel beamed, instantly brightening up again as he began to throw the money pouch up and down in his hand and walked off whistling, leaving Altaïr no option but to follow him.

They passed a beggar man crouched in a corner, and, struck by a moment of inspiration, Asadel casually threw the pouch into the beggars lap.

Altaïr looked on flabbergasted as weeks' worth of effort were thrown away. He was about to speak up when he caught the man's eyes; they were daring him to protest and Altaïr didn't want to find out what the consequences of him speaking would be, so he clamped his mouth shut and watched morosely as the beggar's hands roved over the pouches' contents with sheer joy.

The man led Altaïr to the gates of the city he didn't know the name of and he could see the other white robed man standing impatiently waiting.

"Are you ready to leave?" The older man snapped as Asadel and Altaïr with Nader in tow came up next to him.

"I am." Asadel replied. With gentle eyes, Asadel turned to Altaïr. "Are you?" He said softly.

"I am."

"And your name?" Asadel asked while the group walked out of the confines of city and onto the wide open plain towards Masyaf, collecting their horses from the stables outside the gates.

"Altaïr Ibn al Ahad." Altaïr said, heaving his leg up onto Nader. No matter how hard he strained, he couldn't get his footing in the high stirrups and more than once, he slid off Nader's side. In a sudden turn, he felt tears prickling his eyes when he realised he couldn't get on unaided.

In truth, it was a culmination of so many things that the young boy had been through in the last few weeks, with this small inconsequential event pushing him slightly over the edge however to him, it was through weakness and uselessness that he came to cry in this situation and in front of two men.

"Interesting name." Asadel commented absent mindedly while surreptitiously walking behind Altaïr, kneeling down quickly and holding his clenched forearm out. He smiled kindly as Altaïr used his arm to get onto his horse; averting his eyes so the boy didn't feel embarrassed as he hurriedly wiped his eyes. Asadel didn't and couldn't have known the events which led up to Altaïr's solitary life in the slums of the city but he was able to deduce enough to realise that this boy had not led an easy life. He only hoped that he could provide him with a slightly easier existence when he was at Masyaf.

"So Altaïr, are you ready for a new life?"

"It is my punishment and I will bear it as I should."


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

"ALTAÏR!"

The servant body of Masyaf gave a collective groan on Altaïr's behalf. That sound had become common this past month since the boy's arrival and didn't look set to stop any time soon.

Altaïr was in the middle of collecting Asadel's breakfast when his voice cut through the calm atmosphere of the kitchen and instantly, Altaïr left what he was doing and ran towards the voice. Altaïr found Asadel wandering towards the kitchen half dressed and with no shoes, standing in the middle of the corridor with an expression of general confusion on his face.

"Sir, what are you doing?" Altaïr asked exasperatedly, feeling more like his parent.

"Where are my boots?" Asadel huffed.

"I put them on your coffer last night? Don't you remember?"

"Oh, really?" Asadel replied bemused, "Well, that's quite simple." Without another word he turned on his heel and padded back to his room.

Altaïr was left wondering whether that man was blessed with any sort of intelligence, or whether he was just destined to wander the world in a constant state of idiocy. He stamped back towards the kitchen and smiled half-heartedly in response to the sympathetic looks he received from the rest of the servants.

"Working you hard eh?" the cleaner asked.

"It would be an easier job for me if he wasn't so stupid." Altaïr muttered, walking to the table only to discover that someone had already finished Asadel's breakfast for him.

"Well, sorry my love but that's how it works." One of the cooks said as she heaved a huge pot from one stove to another. "Given that there are so few of us servants who can work in the castle."

Altaïr nodded darkly. The lack of servants within the castle had been a source of confusion for him when he'd first arrived but Asadel had enlightened him as to why. Even now he couldn't decide whether it was something he wanted to know.

These people were Assassins.

The reason there were so few servants allowed to work within the castle was for secrecy's sake; the fewer people who knew their secret, the safer it would be and so the amount of servants only totalled eleven; four cooks, four general maids, a laundry maid, a cleaner and now Altaïr. He was special inasmuch as he was drafted in to be a personal servant. No other Assassin had such a luxury and Asadel flaunted it as much as possible. Altaïr was an all around general dogsbody; contracted to serve food, mend clothes and run errands. And anything else that Asadel wanted in between.

As much as he complained and didn't particularly enjoy the work; he was happier here. He was fed and had a proper bed to sleep on and Asadel even gave him a small salary, on top of what the servants received anyway, with which he could buy whatever he wanted from the actual town of Masyaf that encircled the castle. He had a new set of clothes and some tough leather boots like the ones that the Assassins themselves would wear. And even though he wasn't sure what to think about these Assassins, he loved to watch them. When Asadel wasn't ordering him all around the castle, he would perch himself on the stone wall above the training ground. From there he could watch the sparring matches between the Assassin novices and if he walked across to the opposite wall, overlooking the huge training field, he could watch the Archers and the Assassins practising with their knives. He had a strange affinity for the sounds of the swords hitting one another, and the lightening fast sound of the arrow cutting through the air was music to his ears.

"Aaaaltaïr!"

What wasn't music however was the sound of Asadel shouting at him. In fact, he was getting sick of hearing his own name. He sighed again and picked up the tray with Asadel's breakfast, speeding through the corridor towards his chamber.

He didn't bother to knock; he just pushed open the door with his back, turning around to face Asadel as he sat at his desk. Altaïr placed the tray of food next to Asadel's papers.

"Anything else sir?" Altaïr asked politely.

"No." Asadel replied, without looking up, "That's all for the next week."

"Week?!" Altaïr squeaked incredulously, feeling that clutching his hand over his heart wouldn't even be too dramatic considering the gravity of Asadel's words.

"Yes, you have the next week to yourself." Asadel pocketed the documents and stood up, tucking his chair in and turning to face Altaïr, his expression shrewd.

"But don't let me find out that you've been misbehaving." He warned sternly.

"Of course not!" Altaïr replied quickly, his words taking on a dream like quality as the full implications of Asadel's words started to sink in. He had a whole week to himself. That was 168 hours to do what he liked, when he liked and for how long he liked….

Asadel attempted to lay down a few ground rules but when he looked at the boy for confirmation that he'd heard, he seemed to be having a variation on an out of body experience. His eyes were vaguely glazed over and you could almost hear his brain working as he attempted to structure all his life's enjoyment into one week.

"Are you listening boy? Snap out of it!"

"Ah, right, yes, I understand. No going out after dark and no touching your possessions or leaving this door unlocked. Got it."

"Good. Apart from that, have fun." Asadel winked at the boy as he picked up his hood off the table and walked towards the door, ushering an ecstatic Altaïr out into the corridor.

Altaïr sobered up slightly as he accompanied Asadel to the stables to help him tack up his horse for his journey.

"Is it uh…Assassin business?" Altaïr enquired with a curiosity in keeping with his tender years.

"Yes."

"Cool. I suppose." Altaïr mumbled, averting his eyes.

"I suppose 'cool' is one way of thinking about it." Asadel smiled wryly.

The two of them stepped out into the sunlight and the smell of fresh hay and horse dung hit them with an unexpected force. Altaïr took a deep breath and headed towards his master's mount; a mottled steely grey Arabian with an even steelier temper and evil eyes that gave Altaïr the impression that it would rather be kicking his head in than allowing him to put a saddle on.

"I see that Farah is as temperamental as ever." Altaïr commented as he forcibly shoved the saddle on her back and then fought to adjust the straps.

"Ahh, she has a certain charm that you can't seem to see." Asadel replied affectionately. "Isn't that right Fa-Fa?" he cooed, scratching her under the chin as she nuzzled his face.

"She's about as charming as you are when you're drunk…" Altaïr huffed after she'd stamped on his foot for the second time in three minutes, all while he tried to co-ordinate the bridle and brush down her coat.

"Pah, she's got more fire than your old nag at least." Asadel countered, throwing the saddle bags around her girth and jumping expertly into the saddle, indicating for Altaïr to adjust the stirrups.

"Just because Nader doesn't want to kill people doesn't make him any less of a horse". Nader's head popped up from the stall next to Farah's at the mention of his name, a huge clump of hay protruding from his mouth as he steadily chewed on it but none the wiser for this grievous slur on his nature.

"Is there anything else you need sir?" Altaïr asked as he made a few last minute adjustments to the stirrups.

"That'll be all. Just go and enjoy yourself." He replied kindly, giving Farah a gentle kick and leading her down to the gates to the city.

"Good luck then sir." Altaïr shouted after him. He heard Asadel chuckle before galloping full speed out of the gates and onto the path beyond Masyaf.

Altaïr waited until the small cloud of dust Farah had kicked up, settled and then he ran straight back up to the castle, jumping over walls and running straight into the training ground, where he stopped by the wall and spent the next two hours watching the intense sparring between the novices. He'd never got to be so close and the clashes of the sword seemed to reverberate in his chest; he wanted to be holding one too. But instead, all he could do was watch. The most exciting part for him was watching the trainers spar as a demonstration to their students. They were so fast and so strong; their feet flying over the sand and their swords moving so quickly that they almost became a blur. He felt his pulse quickening just watching them and couldn't help but feel disappointed when the training ended and they were all sent in to eat.

He timidly followed the line of white robed novices into the magnificent dining hall and waited at the end of the queue for his food. He tried to blend into the shadows and stay hidden as he stood there, always dropping behind when a new steam of novices filed in, as if he had no right to be there. As the fourth lot of novices arrived and he relinquished his place in the line for the fourth time, he wondered morosely what he was doing.

Altaïr knew he had every right to be there; one thing he had learnt was that the Brotherhood of Masyaf were nothing if not fair. Even though there were ranks amongst the Assassins, everyone was treated fairly and courteously. No one was victimised for being 'below' anyone else. This applied to servants as well and they were allowed freely around the castle, to eat and to mingle where they pleased.

Altaïr knew that as the fifth group of novices strolled into the hall, his stomach wasn't going to be able to take much more waiting. But he didn't want to leave; he wanted to be amongst them and see what kind of lives they lived. The whole group of would-be killers intrigued him. He watched the most recent band of boys as they walked casually towards him, their white, hoodless robes flapping pleasingly at their feet and an air of confidence around them that came with being able to wield a blade at such a young age. Altaïr envied how happy they looked in a group and felt a twinge of longing as they laughed amongst themselves. Four out of the five boys happily took their place in front of a starving Altaïr, but one boy stopped and stared at him before casually but deliberately taking two steps back and coming to stand behind him.

"Please, go ahead." Altaïr mumbled, gesturing in front of him with two hands.

"But you were here first." The boy stated matter-of-factly.

Altaïr hadn't anticipated this and it threw him completely.

"I know but, I, uh…" Altaïr trailed off helplessly and his hands fell to his sides uselessly.

"I shall wait behind you because you were here first."

Altaïr felt a small, nervous smile touching his lips at the boy's attitude but also surprise, given that no other Assassin had stopped to give him a sparing thought. He felt happy.

The boy looked at Altaïr as if he were a particularly difficult puzzle, before seeming to come to a conclusion as he thrust his small chin out a little further.

"I'm Malik Al-Sayf." He said confidently.

Altaïr's brain went temporarily blank. He had a sudden glimmer of hope that maybe he could make a friend his age. There was one girl his age in the servants quarters; a laundry maid but he hadn't really spoken to her at all yet.

"My name is Altaïr Ibn La Ahad." Altaïr replied, more confidently.

"I like your name." Malik said cheerfully.

"Uh, thank you. I like yours also." Altaïr replied, slightly bemused.

"Are you a new novice? I haven't seen you around before." At the same time as he spoke, he shuffled forward slightly as the queue in front of him diminished. He wanted to talk to this new boy but he wanted to eat as well; he'd just spent a strenuous day in the field practising his throwing and he was pleased to be told that he was getting better and better every day. But he had certainly worked up an appetite.

"No, I…" Altaïr wasn't sure whether he should be truthful. Would Malik want to stop talking to him? He gave it a split second thought before deciding that if this boy was pompous enough to not want to talk to a servant than he wasn't worth Altaïr's time. But, then again, what if he didn't want to speak to him? What if he…?

"I'm a servant. Master Asadel Ibn Khalid's servant." He replied, a slightly challenging tone slipping into his voice, as if daring Malik to say anything.

"Really? Master Asadel's? He's so cool!" Malik gushed, "Have you seen the way he shoots arrows?! Amazing! He sometimes comes down to teach us."

Altaïr made a quietly appreciative sound before realising how hard he found it to imagine Asadel being that good at anything.

"To be honest, I've never seen him do anything useful. He usually can't find his own shalwars. I'm amazed he can even hold a bow." Altaïr looked shyly at Malik to see how he would react to his jibe on a man he seemed to admire, but relaxed instantly when Malik burst out into raucous laughter.

"Don't let the other Masters hear you say that!" He grinned. "So how long have you been here?"

"About a month now." Altaïr murmured, slightly worried that this was descending into territory that he did not want to tackle at this time.

"Why did you come?"

It had descended.

"Because, I….I tried to steal Master Asadel's purse."

Malik's eyes widened to the size of buckets and he looked at Altaïr with sheer incredulity for almost two seconds before he yelled: "You did WHAT?!"

Had they been talking about anything else, Altaïr would have laughed at his expression, but as it was, the conversation had taken a turn for the worse; coming onto topics that were still fresh and raw in his mind.

"I was living rough and I tried to pick-pocket him but I failed and instead of handing me over to the guards, he brought me here." Altaïr hoped that such an explanation would keep other questions at bay.

Malik managed a stunned; 'Woah' before uttering the one question Altaïr did not want to answer. Its utterance made him grimace.

"Why were you living rough?"

"My mother was killed and my sister was taken away by thieves."

Malik's face fell quite dramatically as he realised he was treading on vastly unchartered territory. Altaïr's face was blank hard and his jaw was set stonily; he was gritting his teeth.

"I'm sorry." Malik said quickly, "Let's not talk about it."

In truth, Malik wanted to know so much more. But he would have time in the future, he decided. He liked this boy Altaïr and hoped that they could be friends.

"So why have you come to eat here?" By this time, both boys had reached the serving counter where the four cooks were dishing out meat stew and thick bread. Both boys thanked them as they collected their bowls and chunky wooden spoons, then Malik turned and walked purposefully towards the table housing the boys that he'd arrived with. Altaïr stared at the table warily but didn't move. Malik must have realised that he wasn't being followed, because he turned around and squinted at him questioningly.

"What are you doing? Come on!"

Altaïr took a deep breath and followed Malik to the table of Novices, sitting down opposite him and slowly trying to shrink into the table as the other novices briefly stopped their conversation to look at him, before deciding to pay him no heed and continuing with their chatter.

He breathed a barely audible sigh of relief that the ordeal hadn't been worse, before Malik jumped immediately into a conversation about Asadel again. Altaïr cheerfully answered all his questions and found it amusing that Asadel was this popular. They boys ate and talked until there were almost no more novices left; the first train of real Assassins had started to walk in. You could tell that they were initiated Assassins by the red sash they wore around their waist and Altaïr briefly looked up from his meal to watch them walk in. They had such a different aura about them; strong, powerful and imposing, and with a vague chill he thought that it might be the aura of a killer.

Malik followed Altaïr's gaze, prompting a new question.

"So why don't you become one of the brother hood?"

Altaïr suddenly inhaled his bread in shock and began to choke, slapping himself on the chest.

"I can't!" He gasped.

"But why not? You…you haven't got any parents. So it's alright."

Altaïr cough again and looked wide eyes at Malik.

"None of you have parents?"

"No. Most of us don't."

Altaïr had a gulp of water and decided to save this particular piece of information for another time.

"You started younger than this though, didn't you?"

Malik's face fell slightly and he replied guiltily: "Well, yes, we've been training since we could walk practically."

"See?" Altaïr sighed. "I could never catch up to you guys. I'm already seven."

"Yeah, but I'm only eight and so is the rest of my group of novices and we're all rubbish." Malik replied with the enthusiasm of someone with a grand plan.

"Don't be stupid. You're obviously not that bad."

"But we aren't at a level that you couldn't get to." Malik offered again hopefully.

"It's okay. I like being a servant, I do. It's a much better life than what I had a few months ago and I'm happy here." Altaïr said resolutely, not allowing the little shining light of curiosity to get too bright. He needed it to stay just that; mere curiosity. A little light only.

Malik didn't look convinced but he stayed his tongue and shovelled the last spoonful of broth into his mouth before both boys rose up, cleared up their plates and made a swift exit from the dining room. They both stopped outside the entrance; knowing that they were not going to the same place now. Unwanted thoughts kept popping into Altaïr's head like; '_If only I were an Assassin…I __**could **__be going to the same place as him…_' Altaïr swiftly and forcibly stopped thinking about such things, lest his light of curiosity grow brighter.

"I have to be in the novice's quarters now. Maybe I can see you tomorrow at dinner too?" Malik asked hopefully.

"Definitely." Altaïr replied happily; glad to finally have a friend.

"Good night then Altaïr. It was nice to meet you."

"Same." Altaïr replied and watched as Malik turned around and headed up one corridor, while he turned and headed up the other.

* * *

As Altaïr lay in bed that night, he reflected on his new friendship with Malik, hoping that he really could keep on seeing him. Only every now and then did he have to stop thinking about wistful and ridiculous notions like becoming an Assassin and he spent most of the night with his eyes screwed shut so that he could push out these thoughts.

But when he fell asleep, these thoughts spilled forth from the floodgates of his mind, now unprotected by consciousness. And the light grew stronger…

* * *

Altaïr stood patiently by the gates to Masyaf, digging the toe of his boot against a small tuft of grass as he tried to uproot it from the mud. He was waiting for Asadel's return, whose letter had appeared at the Grand Master's study a few hours before stating that his arrival would come sometime after dinner and so, with only that vague piece of information, Altaïr was waiting at the gates. But he'd been there for an hour now and he didn't know whether his attention span could stretch much further.

"Damned piece of grass…" he muttered as he dropped down onto his haunches and with the nearest stick, began to dig the grass out further.

"Dropped something Altaïr?" the familiar voice said, companioned by the rhythmic 'clip clop' of a horses hooves.

Altaïr shot up instantly, stick forgotten on the floor. "No, sorry sir!" he hastily replied.

"How was your trip?" He enquired, walking alongside Farah and matching her gentle gait, towards the stables.

"Well, I take it as a success considering that the man who ought to have been dead long ago is no longer walking the earth as we do." Asadel replied conversationally.

Altaïr felt a slight chill at his words and his light dimmed ever so slightly.

"Do you need anything sir?"

"Could you prepare a bath for me? I will be up in my chambers shortly."

"Will do." Altaïr replied before nodding his head briefly and speeding up towards the castle, through the back entrance and up through the servant's quarters to ask them to prepare hot water. He stood by the herbal shelves and selected a few of Asadel's favourite bath additions; mainly lavender for its smell and calming properties before rooting around in the cupboard and finding the pestle and mortar, using his knee as a surface to mash the lavender into smaller bits.

After a few arduous trips between Asadel's chamber and the kitchens to collect the hot water, the bath was steaming and giving of a strong lavender smell. Altaïr surreptitiously sniffed his hand, recoiling in disgust at the smell that had stuck to him like a leech; he smelt like a girl.

Asadel however, didn't seem to mind and after Altaïr had helped him take his robes off, he eased himself straight into the bath and gave a satisfied, "Ahhh…" leaning back and closing his eyes in delight.

"Wonderful bath Altaïr." He praised.

"Thank you sir." Altaïr replied, sitting on a stool behind the tub. "Do you want me to do anything for you?"

"Tell me about your week!" He said, twisting himself around and leaning on the rim of the bath to face Altaïr.

"I did nothing of merit. A lot of walking and observing."

"Ah, good."

"And I made a new friend." He continued bashfully.

Asadel's ears seem to prick up and he replied, "Oh really? I'm glad to hear that. His name?"

"Malik Al-Sayf."

"Ah yes, I know him well." Asadel replied with a smile. "He often seems to be wherever I am…" He finished, more confused at the notion than anything and Altaïr had to suppress a snort. He made a mental note to remind himself to tell Malik that Asadel obviously _did_ notice that he practically stalked him.

Altaïr wrung his hands in front of him, currently fighting a hard internal battle; did he ask or did he ignore his stupid thoughts altogether? The commotion raged within but he straightened his face and said stoically. "I will wait outside."

"Thank you." Asadel replied, before he slid his body down into the hot bathwater until it was up to his chin.

Altaïr forced his legs to move out of the door but just as his foot stepped over the threshold, the light flashed angrily, reminding Altaïr of its omniscient presence. He gave an inward shout of anger.

"Ah… Sir?" He asked tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.

Asadel twisted around in surprise, having thought that Altaïr had already left. He didn't say anything but his facial expression enquired for him.

"Sir, this past week gave me time to think and…I…I was wondering whether I could…I could…." Altaïr hit a blank, unable to say what he wanted, suddenly afraid of ridicule or rejection.

Asadel tutted seriously. "Just say it boy, nothing good comes from hesitating."

He audibly gulped but he raised his head and straightened his back a little as he said:

"I want to be an Assassin."

He then stood, tense and poised, expected something from Asadel; shock, anger, disapproval, anything. But instead, he showed no emotion, save thoughtfulness. He turned back around in the bathtub and sunk back down without a word.

Altaïr bored confusedly into Asadel's back, his hands clasped together tightly in front of him, his stomach fluttering wildly but not daring to say anything. He counted to thirty in his head before Asadel's voice came quietly from in front of him.

"I cannot say that I have not been expecting such a question, but I can tell you that I do not know yet. I have been thinking upon it myself. I have my doubts and my worries. I will need to spend time thinking about it."

The light stuttered and flicked uncertainly for a few moments, looking as if it may lose its gleam but suddenly it rose up again, as bright as before. Altair realised that it had not been a rejection. There was still a chance for him. He smiled broadly and although he was slightly confused, replied, "Thank you sir. It will mean a lot to me if you can think on it. Good night."

"Night Altaïr." Asadel replied quietly.

Asadel heard the door lock shut quietly and scowled in frustration. He had been waiting for this question since the boy had learned of the Assassins and at that time, he would have refused it on the suspicions that Altaïr was simply being enticed by shiny swords and dangerous situations, like any young boy. However, it was obvious to him now that Altaïr had put some serious thought into this. He seemed to have approached the topic maturely and Asadel had to say, he was impressed. Although, no doubt, the Al-Sayf boy had something to do with these thoughts, considering that for the first month in Masyaf, it didn't look like Altaïr had even considered there was such a possibility. He frowned and began turning the idea over rigorously in his mind…

* * *

Altaïr was so engrossed in the recesses of his own mind as he walked back to the servants' quarters that he didn't take any notice of where he was walking, as he turned a corner, he knocked into something solid and warm, sending it stumbling back and landing on the floor, covered in linen.

"I'm so sorry!" He cried, dropping to his knees to pick up whoever he'd just knocked over.

"Ugh." A girl's voice sounded beneath the pile of white, fresh linen.

Altaïr sheepishly picked off two sheets, revealing the girls form beneath. He was quite astounded with what he found.

The girl appeared around his age and looked up at him with huge dark blue eyes, her face covered with a mass of pretty, dark curls and an irritated expression on her face. _He didn't really care for girls all that much at the moment but she was incredibly pretty_, Altaïr thought as he held out a hand and heaved the girl up onto her feet.

She dusted off her skirt and Altaïr picked up the linen for her, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry, I was day dreaming."

"I could see that." The girl said pleasantly, her voice melodious but confident.

"Are you hurt?" Altaïr checked, handing her back a pile of fabric.

"Nah," She dismissed, "I'm fine." She paused and noticed that Altaïr didn't seem to be planning to continue the conversation.

"I'm Liv by the way." She smiled. "Are you heading to the Servants' quarters?"

Liv was a nice name he thought, but it didn't sound very Arabic. In a little flash of intuition, he recalled where he had seen her.

"Are you the laundry maid?"

She smirked sarcastically and held out the pile of linen.

"You don't say!"

He laughed embarrassedly. "Stupid question. I'm Altaïr."

"Nice to meet you. I've seen you around. You're Master Asadel's servant, right?"

"Yeah. Dogsbody more like. Or slave. Either would be more fitting."

Livanya grinned, "Yeah, I've heard him bellowing your name all the way from the south tower. Seems like a nice guy though."

"Yeah, he's not bad actually. I could do a lot worse." Altaïr admitted, shrugging.

"Well, I'd better go. Some Assassin out there is sleeping on a bare mattress and he won't be happy if I take any longer! See you around." She bundled the linen up tightly and stuck it under one arm, using the other to wave goodbye to him.

"Bye…" He called back uncertainly.

"Well…that was weird…" He muttered when she had walked completely out of sight. But he simply shrugged and walked to his little room in the servant's quarters, sitting of his bed and pulling off his boots with a satisfied sigh.

He fell asleep hopeful that time, for the first time in a very long while.

* * *

It was a week since Altaïr had broached the question to Asadel and still there was no answer. However, Altaïr did not want to push his luck on the situation and had remained quiet about it.

"Altaïr." Malik began seriously, "You should really ask him about it again."

"No way. It's only been a week; that man has taken longer than that to decide which tapestries to put up in his chambers. There's no way he could have decided something as important as this in only a week." Altaïr protested.

Malik conceded with a sigh. "Well, I'll see you later. I have to go and beat the living daylights out of straw men today."

Altaïr laughed, knowing how much it irked Malik to be doing something so pointless. "You go and have fun with that."

"Yeah. Whatever." Malik grumbled, joining the torrent of novices as they flowed out of the corridors into the training rings. Altaïr smiled and turned back towards the servants' quarters. Towards the end of the corridor, he spied Liv walking across, more linen piled high in her arms. He sped up and turned the corner to catch her, calling her name as he ran. Her head shot around and her face lit up when she caught sight of Altaïr.

"Hey!" She beamed, "How are you?"

"Not too bad." He replied happily. Since his odd encounter last week, he'd seen her frequently around and had come to know her quite well since.

"More washing?" He asked sympathetically.

"Ha, of course." She laughed humorously, her expression grim.

Altaïr laughed and quickly snatched away the armful of dirty linen.

"Come on, I'll help you wash, I have time today. Asadel is training novices this morning."

"Only if you don't screw it up." She sniffed, leading him to the wash room and instructing him on the basics.

For the rest of the morning, the two of them laboured non-stop, washing never ending piles of clothes and bed sheets without so much as a chance to catch their breath. Altaïr really started to appreciate the harsh reality of her job.

"I promise you I'll never joke about this again Liv." Altaïr panted, "It's way tougher than I thought!"

"Finally!" She rejoiced, "You have seen the light! NOW KEEP WASHING!" She roared mercilessly.

An hour later and the rows upon rows of sparkling linen boosted the children's' morale as they sat back, wiping sweat from their brow.

"You do this every day?!" Altaïr asked incredulously.

"You'd better believe it." Liv replied. "So what do you want to do now?"

"Well," Altaïr began sheepishly. "I wanted to go to the archery range but we don't have to if you don't want to."

"No, no." She replied hastily, "I'd love to go and watch."

"Good." Altaïr replied happily. "Let's go in a couple of minutes. I still need to regain my strength.

"Ha. Wimp." She goaded, winking as she stood up, none the worse for wear and marched straight out the door, leaving Altaïr no option but to follow.

"ALRIGHT EVERYONE! BREAK TIME!" Asadel bellowed over the crowd, causing each novice to lay down their bow and sit down where they stood, breathing heavily with exertion. As Altaïr and Liv walked towards him, Asadel had an idea.

"Ah, perfect timing Altaïr! Would you and your lady friend kindly collect the arrows from the targets over there?"

Altaïr's face faulted and he sighed. "Yes sir."

He began walking but stopped when he realised that Liv was following him.

"Liv, don't worry, I'll do this." He assured her.

"Don't be silly. I'm coming to help."

Together the pair traipsed the huge distance to the rows of targets and began the arduous task of teasing each and every arrow out of the targets they were embedded in. As the two of them started on the front row, Altaïr suddenly has an uncanny burst of a sense he couldn't explain. In the same second, he knew something was coming towards Liv and before his brain could even process what this meant, he jumped toward her. In the same instant the voice of someone further in front, screamed a warning but a warning that hadn't come as fast as Altaïr's reactions. Just as the arrow raced towards them, Altaïr knocked Liv straight out of its path, the pair landing on the floor in a heap as they heard the dull _thud _of it smashing into the target. Altaïr's heart was hammering as he jumped up and roared: "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

A sudden onslaught of novices came speeding towards them, Asadel in the lead. He jumped to a crouch next to Altaïr, gripping him by the arms.

"Are you alright Altaïr?" He shouted, panicked.

"I'm fine." He spat, "But why the hell were you firing arrows?!"

Asadel didn't answer but turned his bitingly icy stare onto a boy amongst the group who looked horrified and deeply apologetic.

"I'm so sorry!" He whimpered, "I, I didn't mean to let it loose. I was just practising drawing it back…"

Altaïr felt his anger wane almost as quickly as it had come and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter."

He knelt down next to Liv who was visibly shocked, her small frame quaking slightly and her face as white as a sheet.

"Liv?" He asked gently. "Liv it's okay." He smiled, sitting next to her.

"Altaïr." She stuttered. "Altaïr, you saved me…"

"It was just instinct…" He said embarrassedly standing up, unsure of what to make of the eyes of adoration and gratitude she lavished on him.

He picked Liv up to her feet and escorted her back slowly to the Servants' quarters, rebuffing all of her fevered words of gratitude.

"Altaïr. I am forever in your debt…" She said soberly after he'd made sure to sit her down and give her a drink.

"Don't be stupid." He muttered. He didn't like it when she was all serious like this.

Asadel resumed the Archery lesson, taking the opportunity to reiterate how important it was not to be a complete dolt like the previous boy and then spent the rest of the lesson talking about weapon safety within Masyaf.

After all the novices had departed for lunch, Asadel glanced towards the place in the distance where he knew Altaïr would be sitting, musing on what he'd seen. Altaïr had moved so fast, it didn't seem humanly possible. He seemed to have sensed the arrow before it had even been fired, pushing the girl out the way long before she had a chance to be harmed. However, it had been heading directly for her head and she would have been killed instantly had Altaïr not reacted how he had. Asadel had been indecisive before today, still not sure whether to allow Altaïr into the brotherhood. However, after that display, there was nothing for it; talent like that should not be wasted.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

Altaïr stood outside the door, about to knock on it but stopping with his hand hovering centimetres away from the wood. He took a deep breath and then let it out slowly, gathering the strength before rapping twice on the door.

"Come in." the voice sounded mutedly from beyond the door.

He opened it slowly and then closed it carefully behind him, delaying the meeting for as long as possible. But soon, easing the door handle down and facing the door instead of Asadel would become rude and so Altaïr turned and stood in front of him, his heart beating a little faster in anticipated dread.

Asadel smirked, tipping his head to the side. "I don't know what you're panicking about. After that little display on the Archery field, you think I'm not going to let you join the Brotherhood?"

Altaïr's eyes widened and he couldn't help the little clench of his fist at his side in triumph.

"I can really be an Assassin?"

"You have everything required; a strong mind, a young, strong body and the reflexes of an alert cat. I've never seen anything quite like it." Asadel smiled approvingly. "Of course, there is much more to being an Assassin." He continued seriously, walking to the door and holding his arm out to usher Altaïr out before him.

"But you will learn that as you get older."

"Thank you." Altaïr said quietly, walking with his head held a little higher, unable to stop the excited fluttering of his stomach.

"I would advise you to go to bed early as your training will start tomorrow morning…" Asadel started, "…however, the Al-Sayf boy is in the library." He gave a small knowing smile before walking away down a separate corridor.

"Bright and early tomorrow Altaïr." His disembodied voice came again, beginning to fade.

"Of course sir." Altaïr grinned in response before sprinting at full speed towards the library, his sheer delight cutting minutes off the time it took to get there. But he'd run so fast that by the time he got there, he was bent double and panting.

Malik heard the footsteps racing up the stairs and turned absentmindedly to see who'd arrived. Maybe somebody who could alleviate the boredom of this infernal place, he thought hopefully, glancing around the library in despair at the drag walls and depressing atmosphere. He liked books but he hated being told to read them. His eyes caught sight of the figure as it arrived at the top of the stairs and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"Altaïr?" Malik asked, closing the book in front of him and standing up.

Altaïr's head snapped up, his hands still braced on his thighs. "Malik!" His body shot up and the two boys crept quietly towards each other; Malik sneaking carefully out of the open door to the library to meet Altaïr in the corridor.

"What is it?!" he whispered excitedly.

"Guess what I am?" Altaïr quizzed, a smug expression plastered to his face.

Malik bit back the many sarcastic, jokey remarks he could have made for the one that he knew it was.

"You're joking!" He exclaimed, a little too loud.

"Shhh!" Altaïr barked, "But yes! Asadel permitted me to join the Brotherhood."

"This is so cool!" Malik gushed. "I told you it would happen!"

"You were right." Altaïr conceded, but then again, it was something that he didn't mind conceding on.

Malik suddenly glanced behind his shoulder and gulped as he saw the Assassin in charge staring daggers at his back.

"Damn. I need to go. I'll see you later." Malik sidled back into the library silently, whispering an almost inaudible, "Congratulations."

Altaïr smiled gratefully. "Thanks Malik." He whispered back, even though Malik couldn't hear.

He walked slowly back to the servants' quarters, his brain saturated with so many thoughts and feelings that he could hardly detangle one from the other.

He could identify his main feeling as fear; he was scared of what lay in store for him. Until he'd witnessed what had happened to his mother, he wasn't capable of killing; however, the rage he felt when he thought of the men was so strong that he knew he would be training with the thought of their deaths in his mind; as morbid as he knew that sounded. He knew in his heart of hearts that he would never find those men again. But if by chance, he did – and he would know them – then he would be ready.

The thought gave him renewed strength and vigour. He would learn to fight and defend others so that never again would people close to him have to suffer a fate that he was not capable of stopping.

* * *

Liv peeked around the corner like a fugitive. She could hear nothing; she could see nothing. A good sign on both counts. She relaxed and took a step forward, merrily traipsing down the corridor, appearing like she always did with a bundle of linen in her hands and humming to herself. Suddenly, her ears pricked up and the raucous voice of boys reached her. They seemed to be coming her way.

"Dammit!" She squealed, searching around for an alcove to hide in or a door to run behind. There was nothing; all it had were windows and tapestries. She watched as the boys came to be walking directly opposite her and her face fell as she noticed that it was the one person she wanted to avoid who was leading the band of novices.

Altaïr hadn't noticed her yet but there he was, at the front of the group. She pressed herself flat against the wall, holding her bundle up to her chin in the hopes of disguising her face enough without looking stupid.

She started to blush furiously as Altaïr saw her and his face lit up as he jogged to greet her.

"Oh no." She murmured.

"Liv!" He called happily. "It's been so long!"

She laughed nervously, "Yeah, I suppose it has been." She shrank further behind her bundle of clothes, wishing the wall would engulf her.

"How are you?" Altaïr enquired, noting that she was still as pretty as ever, her thick hair tamed into two plaits and her cheeks managing to turn a curious red colour.

"I'm good thank you, keeping busy." She smiled nervously, lifting up her bundle.

She knew grimly that he was waiting for her to ask the same question; social protocol would expect as much, but she couldn't get the words out.

"I have to go now." She mumbled embarrassedly, darting straight past the group of novices and turning the corner at lightning speed, leaving Altaïr feeling a little bewildered. He'd hoped that she'd recovered from her post-life saving mood but it seemed that she hadn't. She now seemed to be nervous around him, not friendly like before. Perhaps he'd scared her when he'd pushed her out of the way and she thought he'd been attacking her or something…

Altaïr knew that was a terribly poor excuse and completely untrue but he couldn't think of any other reason, especially as whenever he caught a glimpse of her throughout the day, she was always staring at him.

Malik looked on with a smirk. "Was that your girlfriend!?" He teased, egging on the other boys to do the same as they laughed and made gagging sounds.

"No!" Altaïr replied quickly, smacking Malik in the shoulder. "Why would I want one of those?"

The boys were laughing as they continued walking down the corridor but from around the corner, Liv's heart fell a little.

* * *

_Two years on_

"Pull yourself together Liv!" She shouted angrily at herself, kneading her forehead with her palms in frustration as she paced around her small room.

"He's just a boy!" She said out loud again. "Just a boy!"

It had been almost two years since Altaïr had saved her life, something for which she was eternally indebted. But since that point, she'd developed feelings for her saviour; feelings that had captured her normal personality and instead replaced it with shyness and embarrassment.

She was now angrily walking around her room trying to convince herself to stop being so pathetic. The close and happy friendship she'd had with him had been ruined by an embarrassment of being in his presence that she couldn't seem to control, no matter how hard she tried. It angered and depressed her: seeing Altaïr's disappointed looks when she cut short an already hurried conversation or his bafflement and her shame when he caught her staring at him. She'd always been so extrovert but these feelings had ruined that for her. But this time she was determined to rekindle their friendship; she wouldn't let stupid feelings get in the way of having a normal friendly, relationship with Altaïr.

"Today," She said to herself forcefully and proudly, "I will talk to him!"

* * *

"Time to wake up!" Malik shouted boisterously as him and three others descended on Altaïr's bed, jumping wildly up and down, throwing Altaïr all over the place.

"What the hell are you nutter's doing?!" Altaïr muttered angrily, yanking the covers over his head briefly before having them cruelly ripped away, exposing him to the cold.

"I think someone's forgotten that it's their birthday! Even when they've finally hit double figures!" Malik said in mock severity to the boys next to him.

"I think you're right." One of them replied, tutting to himself. They all looked at each other and nodded seriously. Malik held up three fingers, then two, then one. As the last finger was dropped, each boy grabbed a limb – or two in the case of the boy who was in charge of Altaïr's legs – and lifted him unceremoniously into the air, moving him so that he was hovering over the floor before levering him down ever so slightly and then pointedly dropping him. The grinned at his livid expression as the wind was knocked out of him.

"I hate you all." He said sarcastically as he watched their smug little faces towering over him.

"Happy Birthday!" they shouted in unison.

Altaïr sighed and mentally prepared himself to look cheerful for the day he hated the most in the whole year. He thought it would get better as the years passed, but so far, nothing had improved. Memories of such a horrific day were permanently etched into his mind and he felt almost resentful towards his friends who were celebrating such a hideous day in his life, even though he knew they could never know what had happened.

He got up off the floor and tried to look happy and grateful that the boys had made such an effort. They handed him gifts with genuine happiness and he could only respond with a fake smile and hollow words of gratitude. However, they seemed oblivious to both.

By the end of the day, he was mentally exhausted. He'd spent all day behind a façade of cheerfulness that felt so wrong to him. He dragged his feet as he walked back to his bedroom, knowing that it was pointless to be heading back there as tonight there would be an extravagant party for the appointment of the next Grand Master of the Brotherhood, Al Mualim. Morosely, he longed for sleep but knew he couldn't have it for many long hours yet. In his stupor, he didn't even notice the girl in front of him.

"Altaïr!"

"Huh?" Altaïr replied dazedly, briefly looking up before having the wind knocked out of him by the body smacking into his chest.

"Liv." He gasped.

"Happy tenth Birthday!" She shouted exuberantly, stepping back and smiling broadly at him. He groaned inwardly. '_Not you too_.' But he smiled weakly anyway.

"Thanks."

Liv subtly touched her cheek and was grateful to feel that it was a normal temperature, not yet reflecting the faster beat of her heart.

"How has your day been so far?" She asked.

"It's been great thanks." He lied, "Training was good."

"I'm glad!" She grinned, "This is an especially good year because you're ten! Double figures!"

"Yeah." He agreed unenthusiastically. To him, all his words sounded obviously empty and void of proper emotion but to everyone else, even Malik and Liv, they must have seemed real because no one had said anything. He must be better at hiding his feelings than he thought.

She handed him the cake-shaped object wrapped in linen in her hands.

"This is for you from me." She said sheepishly. "I baked it myself."

Altaïr look surprised and managed to actually utter a genuine 'thank you'. He was touched that Liv had made the effort when they both knew she was pretty poor at cooking of any kind.

As if she'd read his mind, she added, "Of course, the cooks helped me. Otherwise you would have had to come to the kitchen to scrape it out of the oven yourself!" She laughed.

Altaïr laughed for the first time that day. "Thank you Liv." He said sincerely. "But if it makes me sick, I'm coming after you!"

She laughed and blushed at his words. "Give me some; I'll test it for you!"

They sat down in the corridor together and began to eat. Altaïr took a bite and smiled as he swallowed it.

"It's excellent." He praised.

Liv's blush reached an unprecedented shade of pink and she laughed nervously.

"Glad you like it. It is actually quite good, isn't it?" She said through a mouthful.

He nodded exuberantly and soon, the two had devoured the whole cake, licking their fingers and shaking the crumbs off their clothes.

"Thank you Liv, really, I mean it." Altaïr said gratefully. Liv felt that there was something else she was being thanked for, not just the cake, but she couldn't for the life of her work out what it could be.

"I'd better go; we all have to change before tonight's ceremony. Thank you so much. It was a great cake too." Altaïr smiled, feeling much more energetic, before he turned and walked down an adjacent corridor, Liv being able to hear his footsteps as he walked away.

She felt slightly confused but decided to pay it no heed, feeling content enough that she had managed to get through that encounter without embarrassing herself in front of the boy she treasured.

* * *

Altaïr awoke the next morning, awash with relief that his birthday was over. He'd slept for less than two hours, thanks to a number of factors but those two hours had been plagued by nightmares and flashbacks that only seemed to really rear their ugly head on said day each year. He looked around and saw that no-one else was awake, even the sun seemed to still be sleeping and so he crept up quietly and decided to refresh himself with some secret – illegal – training.

He changed quickly and walked swiftly through the castle, finding peace in the night-shrouded grounds of the fort. The ground was still hard with the early morning coldness and the still cool air caressed his face. With lock picking skills that many Elite's would be envious of, he pulled the padlock off the Armoury, knowing full well that what he was doing was completely forbidden. However, he was an Assassin and Assassin's did not get caught under any circumstances and so it was with a calm mind that he removed his favourite blade; a double edge sword with a slight nick in its hilt that he could feel when he held it. He pulled it out of its scabbard softly, treating it with reverent care and checked it over like he did before every training session. He liked the fact that many would-be Assassins before him had used and learned by this blade. He felt like he was carrying a legacy in his hands.

He strapped it around his hip, but as he turned to walk towards the fighting arena, the large 'climbing frame' as the novice's affectionately called it, came into view. He smiled wryly and decided to change his plan of training, placing the sword back in the Armoury. He would practise climbing instead, an essential skill in any Assassin's repertoire; something which he excelled in and enjoyed almost as much as the sword fighting.

This climbing monstrosity was made of many sections and fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle; each section was freely able to move around to allow for a number of different climbing scenarios. It was basically a small cluster of buildings, all of different heights. They were slightly more complex than normal buildings which allowed for many levels of difficulty. There were window ledges and balconies as well as trellises on the roofs, not to mention the fact that half of them had purposefully been destroyed to make everything more difficult.

Altaïr climbed lithely and easily to the top of the first building, taking a flying leap to get to the second and then scaling the third just as easily. He was aiming for the sixth and the highest building, from where the best views could be seen. After one slight near miss on a hand hold that left his heart hammering in his chest, Altaïr reached the roof of the final building, jumping up easily onto it, the cool air now a relief on his hot skin.

He looked up and was utterly astounded to see someone's small form already sitting in the place he usually sat in. His jaw dropped even further when he recognised who it was.

"You have got to be kidding me!" He muttered to himself lowly, walking purposefully towards the person who'd stolen his spot.

"Liv?!" He shouted accusingly.

She spun around instantly and was up on her feet in the blink of an eye.

"Altaïr?!" She replied in disbelief.

"What are you doing here?!" He gaped incredulously.

She looked down to the ground in embarrassment. "I come her sometimes to be alone and think."

"But you can climb this?" He asked, making Liv smile unreservedly at the unadulterated admiration in his voice.

"Yeah."

"How? When did you learn?"

"I started trying to climb a few months ago and I found I was quite good at it."

"Wow." He replied simply, his eyebrows raised in recognition of her skill. "Mind if I join you then?"

Her heart took a flying leap towards her ribcage, trying to escape her chest completely.

"Sure." She stammered, smoothing down and collecting her skirts before she sat down as daintily and prettily as she could.

They talked for hours like children normally did, both forgetting their worries and focussing only on the moment at hand, something Altaïr wasn't used to, considering an Assassin would always be thinking ahead. Liv was able to forget – for a short moment – her shyness and nerves and simply enjoy being with Altaïr.

But when he had to leave for breakfast, she realised that she'd only made her predicament worse. She realised that such simple enjoyment of each other's company was what she craved. She wanted to be like this with Altaïr for the rest of her life and it only made her wish that he would like her even more.

"Allah above!" She cursed loudly, "I'm only eleven! I should not be dealing with these kinds of emotions!"

* * *

I found it touching that Altaïr spoke to me of the girl Liv. I felt like I owed her something for being with the man I loved during his childhood years. The fact she had a crush on him was sweet too.

"You can't blame her for falling for you after you saved her life like that." I commented.

He raised one eyebrow lazily. "Oh, so it's not down to my other charming qualities then?" He challenged.

"Pack it in." I laughed, shoving him away.

He grabbed my arms mid-shove and kissed my hands before standing up and helping me up with him.

"I need to go out on a night patrol, to ease my mind." Altaïr said, darting up the fountain.

"Sleep well, fair Asra." He laughed, looking down on me from the hole in the roof.

I looked up and smiled sleepily. "Night." I replied as his silhouetted form disappeared.

I lay down on my blankets, finding myself feeling much more contented knowing that Altaïr had been happy in the brotherhood. I fell asleep easily.

* * *

Altaïr jumped from beam to beam as easily as if he was walking up stairs before taking a flying leap onto the closest building and grappling up its length. He reached the top and swung himself onto the roof before running onwards. His brain was not in charge; his feet took him instinctively.

He was lost in his own mind. His story of Liv did not end with them happily talking on the buildings. He'd learnt in life that nothing ever ended so simply. But he could not bring himself to tell Asra the rest, as the story was one that was still so personal to him, something that he hadn't even managed to tell Malik.

Despite his lack of focus and the impending darkness, he reached the minaret easily and climbed up it without thinking twice, scaling it quickly until he reached the top and flipped himself up onto the small wooden post, shooing away one sedentary eagle who was perched there. He then climbed over the half wall and was surprised to see that this minaret looked just like the one he used to enjoy sitting on in Masyaf. Its half wall was also knocked down at a point and so, in an almost childlike way, Altaïr sat down and hung his legs over the side like he did when he was young.

He sat hunched on the top, gazing over Damascus like its protector but with his mind very much in a different place. He could hardly stand to think of Liv anymore, it affected him in so many ways. But with his drowsiness, he began to lose himself to memories.

* * *

_How long has it been?! TOO LONG! That is the answer! _

_Happy New year everyone! (Oh, and Merry Christmas)_

_I tried to get this out on the 1__st__ but I sure screwed that one up. (Needed some more proof reading you see.) I hope you're all well and enjoyed this chapter, again, sorry for the time it's taken to get it out to you. These Christmas holidays have been surprisingly unproductive in terms of anything creative. _

_I didn't write as much as I wanted…_

_I didn't sew as much as I wanted…_

_I also didn't read as much as….my English teacher has told me to…._

_(Oh yeah, and biology coursework isn't finished either. Joy)_

_Ah well, better get on with it then! _

_- Minnie _


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

_Argh! I'm so sorry this is so late! School is a complete work-engulfed bitch! I've really tried to proof read this as much as I can but I'm sorry if some mistakes have slipped through. _

_Please enjoy and don't worry, even though I hope I can keep you interested with this, we'll be back to main story next chapter._

* * *

Altaïr couldn't control the angle his thoughts began to take. He was weary and in his tiredness, his mind was not good at combating unwanted memories. Liv started to creep into his thoughts, not helped by the fact that, upon a minaret tower very much like this one had been the last time they had been together on friendly terms.

His mind began to wander to the part of his life that he did not want to tell Asra.

* * *

Liv sat surreptitiously amongst the grass, picking flowers, as she watched all the novices scrabbling around in the dust with swords.

Suddenly, the relative calm was ruined when she moaned out loud: "Who am I kidding?" and flung her flower chain on the floor in frustration. "Of course I'm only watching Altaïr." She crushed the petals into the dirt and drew her knees up, hugging them to her as she trained her eyes on the object of her affections.

Just looking at him made her nervous; made her stomach begin to flutter and her heart beat begin to quicken. They'd been together since Liv was eight and Altaïr was seven; she was now sixteen and he was fifteen. And she had loved him for all that time. Eight years of her life spent dedicated to one person. One person that didn't even feel the same.

She sighed mournfully; she got upset even thinking about it. Liv had thought that it was just a childhood crush and that she'd grow swiftly out of it, but as she got older she couldn't help her feelings getting stronger and stronger until one day, she knew that she loved him. He was kind, thoughtful and handsome, albeit getting slightly more full of himself in recent years, Liv thought with a smirk. But she didn't care; he was still perfect in her eyes.

"If only he really did have more flaws…" She sighed, "…then maybe I could stop loving him."

"_That would never happen_." Retorted her subconscious derisively.

"I'm sure it…- " She stopped suddenly, "Ugh, I'm arguing with myself."

She shook her head in an attempt to rid herself of her own voice and focused back on Altaïr who had picked up his sword and was sparring with Malik. They were both excellent but Altaïr was always better; better even than some of the fully fledged Assassins themselves and in no time, Malik was back-down in the dust, Altaïr's foot resting on his chest and a smug smirk firmly planted on his face.

She watched him hold out his hand and pull Malik up off the floor but Malik's pride was wounded and so he'd decided to play dirty, springing his sword on Altaïr as he was helped up. Altaïr deflected it awkwardly; a kind of side parry that caused his sword to hit the ground tip first, leaving his chest and right side vulnerable and open. Malik smiled triumphantly and knocked Altaïr over but he backwards rolled off the ground and back into a crouch, sword firmly in his hand.

Liv let out a breath that she hadn't realised she was holding. She heard Malik laugh and apologise but Altaïr still kicked him hard in the backside as punishment for his dirty tactics. She smiled wistfully despite herself and wished that she could be as close to him as Malik was.

She sighed frustratedly and decided it was time to leave – there was no point in torturing herself – and she had a lot of work to do, so she stood up and half-heartedly walked away.

Altaïr had a moment of inexplicable intuition and looked up to see Liv as she began to turn around and walk back towards the castle. Malik followed his gaze and laughed boisterously.

"You know, you really should do something about her." He said, leaning lazily on the hilt of his sword.

"What's that meant to mean?" Altaïr replied guardedly, his hackles raised, ready to defend Liv should the need arise.

"I mean, it's obvious she's in love with you."

Altaïr stayed silent as an admission of the truth in Malik's words. Nobody could argue with that.

"She's like a sister to me." Altaïr sighed, sheathing his sword and walking to the Armoury. "We're Assassins and we need focus; we don't have time for distractions."

Malik snorted derisively and looked unconvinced as he followed.

"It doesn't have to be that way." He replied, sheathing his sword also.

"But I simply don't feel the same. She's like a sister." He repeated forcefully.

"Oh well." Malik shrugged, dropping the subject, "She is beautiful though."

"_That_, I can appreciate." Altaïr laughed. In the eight years he'd known her, she'd changed quite a bit. Instead of just being pretty, she was now beautiful with her thick, dark hair and stunning eyes.

Unfortunately for Liv though, her beauty did not have the desired effect on Altaïr. He could appreciate her looks but not in the way she would have wanted. However, that didn't stop many of the _other_ men appreciating her looks, he often found himself laughing at the way his friends would gaze adoringly at her as she walked about the castle.

By the time the light began to fade, all the boys except Altaïr were exhausted. Altaïr had sat out most of the afternoon session after a hastily whispered order from Asadel. Altaïr was beating the other boys too quickly and they weren't progressing as well because of it. Altaïr had smirked and been silently smug but after ten minutes, he had realised how boring it was to be too good. Asadel hadn't let him go back to his room because he was supposed to 'watch and learn', so he'd been stuck there for hours.

As the other boys dragged their feet homewards, Altaïr took a detour to one of his favourite climbing spots, an old worn out minaret just on the outskirts of the city. He liked climbing at twilight, when the heat lessened and the light became calming and more subdued. It took him no more than five minutes to scale its full length – a record which he planned on beating with age – and as he pulled himself, he wasn't shocked to see that Liv was sitting there also.

"I swear you stalk me you know." Altaïr joked harmlessly, the sound of his voice snapping Liv out of some sort of reverie with a startled yelp. He laughed at her reaction and sat down next to her at the part of the wall where the bricks had been knocked down so that their legs hung over the edge of the tower and their view wasn't obscured.

Liv's stomach flipped wildly and she wrung her hands in her lap; an internal conflict of epic proportions raging in her mind. She was sixteen now and had loved Altaïr for so long that to not tell him of her feelings would be a betrayal of who she was. She'd prided herself on her openness and honestly before Altaïr came into her life. Since then, she had been withdrawn and more introvert and she was sick of it; sick of the nervousness and the feelings of inadequacy. She'd climbed up here with a strange feeling that Altaïr would come too and she wasn't wrong; not that her pre-emptive inkling had stopped her from getting the fright of her life when he'd hopped up onto the platform.

But he was next to her now; so close. She could see his hair blowing in the breeze and the bottom of his robes flapping on the bricks. She could see his eyelashes and the line of his jaw that she longed to touch. His penetrative brown eyes gazed on into the distance.

"Altaïr."

Altaïr's head snapped around to her in confusion; she sounded very much like she was in pain.

"I need to tell you something."

"Is everything alright?" He asked in concern.

"Yes." She mumbled, "Shut up and listen."

He looked taken aback but the corner of his lip turned up and his expression invited her to speak.

"You're not stupid." She stated. "You know how I feel for you." It pained her to say it like that. For so long she had tried to convince herself that she was the only one in on her secret but at the same time, she knew that she'd simply been fooling herself. Everyone knew. For some reason, the teachers knew too.

Even Grand Master Al Mualim knew and his frequent shrewd looks whenever he passed the two of them in the corridor together were enough to make her go queasy at the thought of so little privacy with something she thought she was capable of hiding.

Altaïr's lips fell apart slightly in shock. Of all the things he thought she was going to say, this was most certainly not one of them. It wasn't a subject he wanted to broach either.

Liv's eyes stayed trained ahead and her hands were braced against her thighs, her shoulders hunched as if she was trying to protect herself. Altaïr looked at her expression, finding so many emotions that he wasn't sure which one to react to first. He decided upon the embarrassment.

"I had no id-…." He began sympathetically, trying to alleviate her shame with a little white lie; however, she threw him such an evil look halfway through that he quickly swallowed his words and nodded.

"I do know."

She clenched her fists inadvertently, her mind in turmoil. Those words hurt more than she had ever expected. Altaïr knew and he hadn't done anything about it; unmitigated proof that he didn't share her feelings. Liv thought she'd be able to deal with it but suddenly, in that moment, she realised that she wasn't strong enough. She couldn't deal with unrequited love anymore. She thought she could but she couldn't; her felt her hands shaking and her eyes begin to water. Liv couldn't believe that this was her reaction, but she was no longer in control of herself.

She needed to do something before she left. Something that she'd wanted to do for many years now. She titled her head, gently tugged upon the folds of robes at his neck and leant in towards Altaïr's lips, touching hers lightly to his, savouring the feel of it. Altaïr's brain went into momentary shut down as he struggled to find muster up some sort of emotional reaction to his current situation. Then, his mind and body resisted as he pushed her gently away.

"No Liv." He said sadly, "I cannot be with you; I'm an Assassin."

Liv's composure cracked at that point and a sob escaped her lips.

"You cannot be with me because you're an Assassin!?" Liv choked incredulously.

Altaïr recoiled at her wild look; apparently that hadn't been the right thing to say.

"Well, I mean, you're like a sister to me too. I wouldn't feel right. But, yes, I am also an Assassin and I need to think only of the brotherhood. There cannot be distractions."

Her eyes glazed over, all hope lost. She was a distraction. "I have to go." She choked as she began to climb back down the minaret carelessly and sloppily, being unable to see through her tears, nor think through her pain. She was incensed, hurt and overwhelmingly sad, all at once.

Altaïr watched as she jumped hastily onto the ground below and ran at full speed back towards the castle. He held his head in his hands in sorry contemplation. He would need to go and talk to her later to straighten things out.

:::

"Grand Master Al Mualim." The man said cordially, stepping into the Master's study. Al Mualim was standing by the window with a bird casually in his hands.

"Yes?" He droned uninterestedly, his shrewd eyes fixed on the man questioningly.

"It appears that a servant girl has run away."

"I take it she was aware of the rules?" Al Mualim replied without a pause, placing the pigeon back in its cage and standing with his hands behind his back before the man.

"All servants within Masyaf Castle are aware of the rules sir. They know that they are here for life."

"Good. Then make sure to check the castle and grounds fully before reporting back to me. Make it quick. If it is discovered that she has truly run away then she will be found and dealt with."

"Yes Master."

* * *

"Liiiiv!" Altaïr groaned in frustration, irritated that he had already walked this corridor four times in pursuit of his friend. She'd vanished completely. The rest of the servants reported that she hadn't appeared at the designated time, nor had she been seen walking around the castle.

After Altaïr had climbed down from the minaret, he'd given Liv and hour to herself before he'd gone to find her and talk about their situation. However, she hadn't been in her room and the laundry room was empty along with piles full of linen that Liv was meant to have already done. Altaïr had run through practically the whole city to no avail; he'd climbed onto the tallest buildings to get a better view of the city, yet she was nowhere to be found. And his curfew time was looming ever closer.

"For god's sake Liv, where are you?!" he shouted angrily as he re-checked the laundry room just to be sure.

He heard the sound of rapid footsteps upon stone drawing closer to him and a small blossom of hope flourished for a moment before Malik's voice called out his name and his body came reeling around the corner into the laundry room.

"Altaïr!" Malik cried in relief, "Thank Allah I've found you!"

"What is it?" Altaïr snapped, annoyed that it had been Malik and not Liv.

"The Grand Master requests your presence!" He explained.

"He what?!" Altaïr gaped, stopped in his tracks.

"I know!" Malik gushed, "I have no idea why but run and run fast."

"Thanks." Altaïr said as he sprinted past Malik and out into the corridor. "I'll see you later." He had a sudden thought and stopped, hovering hesitantly at the corner. "Oh, and…keep an eye out for Liv will you?" Altaïr said quietly, hopefully.

Malik nodded solemnly. "I will. Now go."

"Thanks Malik." Altaïr replied sincerely before resuming his sprint towards the Grand Master's study, full of trepidation at such an odd meeting at this unusual hour.

He knocked quietly and waited. "Come in." boomed the voice of Al Mualim. Altaïr bowed his head and entered slowly. He had always been slightly uncertain in this man's presence considering that it was the same man whose purse he had attempted to steal all those years ago along with Asadel's. However, unlike Asadel, he did not seem the kind or merciful type. In fact, he had an air of ruthlessness about him that irked Altaïr. It felt liked he'd never forgiven him for pick pocketing.

"Altaïr." Al Mualim said enthusiastically, sounding as if he was welcoming someone he'd knew he'd caught in an elaborate trap. His voice immediately set Altaïr on edge and he filled with dread but walked forward none the less and stood in front of his desk, upon the circle with the emblem of the Assassin's on the floor.

"I am sorry to call you here so late." He apologised, with not a hint of sincerity, "but I have a rather important job for you."

Altaïr's ears pricked up and he listened more attentively, "A job?"

"Oh yes." Al Mualim smiled. "Your first Assassination."

Altaïr's heart skipped a beat and he was left speechless and confused.

"But I am only fifteen."

"You are quite the protégé though." Al Mualim replied, placing his hands on the back of his desk chair.

Altaïr stayed silent. He had never expected anything like this when he was still only a novice and inasmuch as the Grand Master's words were massaging his ego, he had never planned to kill anyone so soon. He didn't feel ready. Novices were not meant to become Assassins until they were eighteen. He thought he had time.

"If you can do this for me Altaïr, then I will make you a fully fledged Assassin." Al Mualim continued, his voice slow and calculated.

Knowing that he had captured Altaïr's interest, he continued, his voice taking on a tone of challenge; a rallying speech.

"Do you agree to these terms Altaïr? Do you pledge your allegiance to me and swear to fight to protect your brothers?"

Altaïr did not even hesitate; he would do anything for his brotherhood.

"I do."

"Good." He smirked. "Then it is of utmost importance that you carry out this assassination. The brotherhood will be compromised if this person is left alive."

Altaïr no longer felt wary. Anyone who put his brothers in danger must not be allowed to do so for long.

"I will do anything sir." Altaïr vowed vehemently.

Al Mualim smiled to himself; he had ensnared the boy easily.

"If you are to become an Assassin, you must repress your emotions; do what needs to be done and not let it linger with you. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"This task will test you to your limits on that front, I am sure of it. But if you cannot do this then you will never be a successful Assassin. If you cannot do this then it will show me that you are not able to separate heart from mind and you will be useless." Al Mualim said unfeelingly.

Altaïr flinched at his words, now determined to carry out whatever task Al Mualim had in store for him; He would not to be seen as weak. He would embrace everything, including death if he had to. He would not be underestimated.

"Tell me who it is Master and I will rid you of them." Altaïr said resolutely, his voice now harsh and cold and determined.

"Very good." Al Mualim crooned to himself inaudibly. Before he said anything more to Altaïr, he pulled out a single, pristine white feather from his desk draw and held it up to Altaïr like bait.

Altaïr was vaguely entranced by it, knowing instinctively what he would do with it. Its whiteness needed to be stained by someone's blood. The anticipation for whom this 'someone' was, was keeping him on edge.

"This will serve as proof of your victory." Al Mualim said caustically, "And I _will_ need proof."

Altaïr scowled. He realised that he was being doubted.

"I will not let you down Master." Altaïr growled as politely as he could.

"I am glad to hear it." Al Mualim said in approval, handing the feather to Altaïr who clasped it softly like glass in both hands.

"Another thing before I tell you the person's name. I will not be able to give you your hidden blade as you have not yet given me your ring finger so you will have to rely instead upon the sword." He bent down and removed something wrapped in silk from his desk.

"Take this."

Altaïr opened his palms to receive the sword, carefully unwrapping it and almost letting out a sigh of pleasure upon seeing it. It had beautiful handles like wings and the blade shone even in such little light; the smell of the leather handle was still rich and earthy; pristinely new.

"Thank you Master." Altaïr said reverently, holding it to his breast as if he was to protect it, not the other way around.

"Now, we cannot waste anymore time, every second gone here is a second more the culprit has to escape. We know that they're heading west out of Masyaf however it does not seem intentional. We can safely assume that this person had no knowledge of the country and has no set plan. They are simply riding blind."

"They are on horseback?" Altaïr inquired.

"Indeed. Your horse in fact." Al Mualim smirked.

"My horse?!" Altaïr spluttered, "They've taken Nader?"

"Indeed they have."

Altaïr was angry now, his beloved stallion, stolen.

"Tell me who it is Master," Altaïr grimaced, "For now, not only must I protect my brothers, but I must retrieve my horse."

Al Mualim sneered despite himself; he'd drawn it out long enough and had been looking forward to uttering the name all evening.

"Livanya. But I believe you know her as Liv."

The sound of her name upon Al Mualim's lips, hit Altaïr like a thunderbolt from the sky, rendering him unable to think, feel, speak. His mind became a haze of indiscernible confusion and he looked blankly to Al Mualim for some sort of explanation.

"Master, you must be mistaken..." He stammered, "Liv… Livanya has done nothing."

"You are wrong boy." Al Mualim smirked. "She is a servant whom we allow in Masyaf Castle. She knows more secrets than any non-member of the brotherhood should. Yet she has now run away with that knowledge."

Al Mualim stared at Altaïr's stricken face, feeling very close to actually having a twinge of sympathy for the boy who looked as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest and stamped upon while he could only look on in horror.

"You intend to let her leave with all this knowledge that she could easily tell anyone for the right price?"

"You are wrong; Liv would never do such a thing." Altaïr said viciously, strained.

"I am not prepared to take that risk." Al Mualim shouted back. "I am disappointed that you are."

Altaïr winced. Of course he was not willing to take that risk, but to kill a friend? He would go, but he would go and talk to her. He would bring her back for sure.

"I will go." Altaïr said firmly, sure of his idea and his power to bring her back. "And I will protect the brotherhood."

Al Mualim smirked, mistaking his resolution for obedience. "I am pleased to hear it."

Altaïr grasped his sword close and turned on his heel out of the room.

Liv sat crying bitterly on a rock near the sheer walls of the ravine through which the path had taken her. Nader stood quietly beside her and didn't so much as shake his tail to bat away the flies. He could sense the distressed mood of Liv and it set him on edge.

For one so slim and delicate, the wracking sobs that overtook her body seemed like they would break her apart. She could not control her crying any more than she could control the sun's path in the sky. For one thing, she could not believe her irrationality at running away but then again, she could no longer stay there. She couldn't be near Altaïr anymore, it pained her too much. And to remain in the place that Altaïr had blatantly said was the reason they could not be together went above and beyond her tolerance capacity. She would never go back. She looked silently at Nader and felt a twinge of guilt. Altaïr loved Nader like a son and yet she had stolen him. But then she shook her head and turned away. He needed to feel a little sorrow and pain in his life and then perhaps he would understand, she thought irrationally.

As the sky blackened, she felt the first pangs of fear. She was a lone girl, alone at night; vulnerable and an easy target for anyone who thought she might be a person of means.

'I_ am so stupid.' _She cried bitterly.

Stupid for everything.

Stupid for loving Altaïr.

Stupid for running away. Her whole life was one endless cycle of _stupid_.

She sat on that rock until the moon rose to bathe her in its light. It was full tonight and she felt safer in the brightness that it brought.

Then, all of a sudden, she heard the deep drumming of hoof beats coming towards her. Her heart leapt to her throat and she scampered around wildly on the rock, but no sooner had she tried to move did the horse come thundering into her view. She noticed that the rider had already seen her as their whole head was trained on her position upon the rock.

Her stomach lurched in fear and she pressed her back towards the rock wall.

"Thank god I've found you." The rider breathed in relief as he swung off his horse and walked to the rock, looking up.

"Please Allah no." Liv moaned as she recognised the voice and sunk to her knees.

Altaïr jumped up onto the rock and crouched to his knees next to her.

"Liv, Liv, it's me! I've come to take you home!" Altaïr said smiling.

"No." Liv replied, her voice steely.

Altaïr's face fell suddenly and you could almost once again see the boy in him.

"What do you mean Liv?" He implored, "Don't you understand?"

"I can't come back. I'm not going back. Never again." She said detachedly, trying desperately just to pretend that Altaïr wasn't here.

Altaïr began to get angry at her lack of action. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" He shouted, standing back up and towering over her.

She remained silent.

"I looked everywhere for you only to discover you'd run away, and then had to ride like a man possessed to reach you!" He growled.

"I'm sorry for your trouble." She said, her eyes unfocused and looking everywhere but at Altaïr.

He gave a short laugh, devoid of humour. He had never accounted for the fact that she might not want to come back.

His laugh was the disbelieving laugh of a man whose plan had failed in the worst way possible.

"You don't seem to understand how much danger you're in Livanya." He said coldly, he himself astounded by the untruth of his own words. She was in no danger from him. There was no way he could harm her.

Liv looked up startled, more from the fact that Altaïr had used her full name than because of the words he had used. It felt wrong to hear it on his lips, the extra syllables sounded coarse and unnatural.

"What danger do you pose to me?" She asked listlessly, still having not moved from her crouched position.

Altaïr was feeling unnaturally venomous and angry at her and so he spat; "The clue is in my profession."

Liv's dark face blanched instantly and her lips began to tremble. Her eyes were widened in such fearful disbelief that when she looked at Altaïr imploringly, he turned away. Having such fearful eyes turned upon him, knowing it was him who had caused them to be that way, held no joy for him. He also realised that making Liv scared was the last thing he wanted and he immediately felt bad about his harsh words.

"No –No – No!" She cried bitterly, "No!" To die by the hand of the one that she loved? How cruel life was being to her. Oddly, it was more the fear that Altaïr would be the one to kill her than the thought of being killed at all. But in the brief few moments before Altaïr had arrived, she'd considered the possibility that the brotherhood would not be happy. In her grief and shock, she had forgotten the fundamental rule of her existence; never leave Masyaf. And so even though Altaïr's words were a shock, in a twisted way, they made sense. It did not lessen her terror though.

Altaïr's heart twisted at her expression and his shoulders sunk from their previous authoritative and challenging position.

"Don't look at me like that Liv." He said quietly, "You know I would never kill you."

She looked up at him, her eyes swimming with fear, but still holding her ground.

"But it doesn't change the fact that I was sent here to kill you. I never intended to do so though. I thought that you would be reasonable and would come home, but it appears you have lost your mind." He finished bitterly.

Her fear subsided little by little until it was simply irrationality again.

"Kill me then." She said angrily, standing up so that she would not feel so small.

Altaïr blinked uncomprehendingly.

"What are you saying?!" He cried viciously. "Just come back with me. That is all it will take! Forget any arguments we've had and be reasonable!" He had grabbed hold of her arm tightly, angrily, but Liv has thankful for the contact. Albeit it sad at the same time; he would never touch her any other way.

"I'm not going back. So you should kill me if you don't want to lose face." She said cruelly.

Altaïr's arm dropped in disgust. "You're like a completely different person."

His hand moved slowly to his belt and he withdrew a dagger.

For an instant, Liv thought that he was truly going to kill her; something that, despite all her bravado, she never thought would happen.

Instead, he moved to the edge of the rock and sat down, also pulling a single white feather from a pouch at his side and looking at it deliberately, as if the answer to his life's questions were hidden within it. Liv stayed where she was, backed up against the wall, unsure of what he was doing. Suddenly they both gasped; Liv from shock and Altaïr from pain. He had drawn the knife straight across his thigh, leaving a slash of pooling blood.

She rushed to where he was and knelt beside him.

"What are you doing?!" She cried.

He didn't answer; instead he drew the feather across his leg, staining almost all of it instantly red. Liv bit her lip, suddenly realising what he was doing. She had seen enough feathers to know what their purpose was; except that it was not her blood marking the feather as it was supposed to.

For a moment, as she stared at him, she considered returning with him but as soon as it had arrived, the idea was thrust out of her head. Altaïr was giving her all the chances; the chance to be free of Masyaf and the chance to be free of the shackles he had inadvertently placed on her. She would miss him of course and she would always love him but that was precisely why she needed to go.

"You need to take Nader." She said emotionlessly now, her decision fully made.

"What?"

"You need to take him. If you return with only one horse, Al Mualim will know."

The final admonition. She was not coming home.

Altaïr could not have fathomed the effect that her rejection would have on him. The cool logic of the horse situation made him see red and he launched himself upwards, not even bothering to staunch the flow of blood on his leg.

"You are an idiot Livanya." He spat, jumping off the rock onto the ground, staggering slightly. Liv closed her eyes and steadied herself.

"Take the horse Altaïr. Give him no reason to be suspicious."

"I never want to see you again Livanya." He said cuttingly, feeling betrayed and wishing to hurt her.

She didn't let him see her tears as she forcefully handed him Nader's reins.

"Thank you. For letting me go."

Altaïr could no longer look at her and he turned the way he had come holding both horses' reigns in shaking fists.

"Just go." He snarled and, as an afterthought, removed the dagger stained with his own blood from its holder and threw it at her feet.

"Take it. Or you will be defenceless."

"Thank you." She said softly, bending down and picking it up delicately, clutching it to her breast and already treasuring it as a present from him.

"If I see you again I will have to kill you. I have failed my mission already but I will not fail again."

Liv nodded, a vague chill clawing its way up her spine. His soft lips were no place for such words.

Altaïr was already dragging himself and the horses down the hill when Liv whispered:

"Good bye."

* * *

Just to think of it made Altaïr angry, but it was no longer towards her. With age he had come to realise how he'd hurt her and to appreciate her reasons for leaving. But the anger was still there.

Everything he was in the present was based on a lie from his past.

He was made an Assassin because of a lie; he had compromised the brotherhood – for even though he trusted Livanya, who was to say that the information could not be extracted forcefully? – and disobeyed his Master – which, at the time had been a problem, however now, it no longer mattered. One thing he had forgiven himself for at least.

After reluctantly being appointed an Assassin as a reward for something he didn't do, he'd felt like a fraud, always paranoid that someone would look into his eyes one day and see his lies. Eventually he had come to terms with the fact that he was skilled enough to uphold the rank he has been given but still, he'd always harboured the underlying anger at how Liv had made him feel for all those years after her departure; a liar, a fraud and an imposter.

Altaïr looked up and noticed the creeping, glowing light of the sun as it began to rise. He stood up, his mind clearer now and returned to Asra.

* * *

_Thanks so much for everyone's reviews, I really get uber motivated because of them; but sorry if I haven't replied to all of them yet!_

_One person in particular is toying with my emotions…MACROMACKEREL! You write such an awesome review and you don't even leave me an address with which to reply…. How cruel. I kind of have an essay for you, don't know if you want it though… :P_


	29. Chapter 29

****

Chapter 29

_Everyone! Please forgive me! I'm sorry for such a ridiculously long time between chapters, I've just bee so rushed off my feet recently. Even if I haven't replied, I read and appreciate every review so please keep going! Thankyou so much for bearing with me, I appreciate your patience._

* * *

Having sat under that small square of open roof for longer than I now cared to remember, I had become used to Altaïr periodically climbing in and out. In fact, I was expecting it, seeing as Altaïr hadn't returned from his excursion a few hours before. I wanted to make sure he was alright and so I was patiently waiting for his arrival through the roof. I wasn't, however, prepared for people that I didn't recognise and the moment that the young boy dropped from the sky, I swear that I nearly stopped breathing through shock.

To be fair, I scared the boy just as much as he scared me. He'd landed perfectly on the floor, looked up and seen me and then promptly staggered, nearly losing his balance completely. I relaxed the moment I saw the red sash around his waist and the distinctive cut of his robes; he was at least an Assassin and not an enemy. I could see that he was wondering whether to politely enquire as to who I was, or pull out his sword and run me through.

"Can I help you?" I asked timidly, feeling terribly out of place asking an Assassin such a question in his own bureau.

"It very much depends on who you are." He replied politely but guardedly.

I laughed nervously, "Well, I'm not really anybody important but I'm the only one here at the moment. Do you need Nasih?"

"No, I need the Grand Master."

It's surprising that it didn't click at that point. "The Grand Master?"

He held back an exasperated sigh. "Indeed. The Grand Master. Do you know where he is?"

For a moment, I only floundered in ignorance, not immediately knowing any person who fit such a title. However, it isn't long before you realise that if Nasih is the person he _isn't _looking for, it can only be the other.

"You mean Altaïr?" I said incredulously, seeing the surprise on his face that I thought must be due to my casual use of his first name.

"Yes."

"He isn't here at the moment." I replied, "But I'm sure he will return soon."

The youth nodded but remained where he was, stock still and unsure of me.

"Is the Grand Master important?" I asked tentatively after a few moments, intrigued at this title Altaïr seemed to have gained.

His eye brow rose ever so slightly and he looked at me almost pityingly. "Indeed." He replied sarcastically.

I decided that I didn't like this boy very much.

"But what does he do?"

"How do I know that I can tell you such things?" He replied, his eyes narrowing at me.

"Good point." I replied meekly, now hoping that someone would drop through the ceiling and relieve me of my duties as 'entertainer'.

Almost as if I'd spoken aloud, I saw Nasih's foot touch the top of the fountain and then the rest of his body appeared as he climbed down and stepped on the floor.

He turned around and immediately saw the boy who bowed his head in greeting.

"Ah, Omar, I was told you would be arriving." beamed Nasih, beckoning Omar as he walked through the doorway to his desk. I knew I would not be welcome in their conversation in person, so I sat outside the doorway to listen instead. Call it eavesdropping if you will.

"Who is she?" Omar whispered indignantly, so quietly that had I not been where I was, I wouldn't have heard anything.

"Altaïr's lover." Nasih stated. My cheeks began to burn and I was mortified; couldn't he have introduced me as Malik's cousin instead?

"Really?!" Omar squeaked.

"Omar, you need not sound so surprised, just because you have the virility of wet cabbage does not mean that we are all afflicted." He quipped drily.

I almost gave myself away by laughing but managed to avert any disaster by clamping my hands over my mouth at the last minute.

"So what news do you have to bring?" Nasih asked. "I was sent a letter by Malik only saying that you would come with important news. News of such importance that it wasn't to be sent by pigeon for fear of interception." He ended curiously.

"Indeed." He said proudly.

I heard the familiar scratching sound of a scroll unrolling and being placed on the desk before Omar spoke again, his voice now subdued and serious.

"It is a warrant of assassination for Conrad de Montferrat, soon to be appointed King of Jerusalem."

"Ah, I thought as much."

"As temporary Grand Master, Malik has told me to tell you that he has discussed this at length with the Elite's and this is the only conclusion they have come to."

"As always, as always. And the information is contained within the scroll?"

"Yes. All additional information is in there."

"Good." Sighed Nasih. "This will be strangely unfortunate for Altaïr." He mused.

"I thought so too." Omar replied, his voice loosing the severity with which he had previously spoken, "But he is the only one who the Master feels is able to do it."

"Of course. I'm sure Altaïr would have chosen to do it himself had he been able to resume his position as Grand Master."

Omar didn't reply further, all I heard was an almighty yawn and a small chuckle from Nasih.

"Thank you Messenger Omar. I take it you will be requiring a bed and some food."

"That would be greatly appreciated. Riding nonstop for forty eight hours can really exhaust you."

"No doubt about it. The bed is this way."

"Thank you."

I heard the door click shut and then the familiar rustle of maps resumed with Nasih presumably hunched over his desk, like always. I pursed my lips and decided not to think too hard. If I didn't think about it, then I wouldn't be able to think too much into it and I felt that that would serve me better at the moment. But information like that is hard to forget and try as I might, I couldn't get it out of my head. Death is never an easy subject to broach.

* * *

When a strange, ethereal calm enveloped the streets and the cool morning crispness drove people to quicken their step, Altaïr found the city to be at its most beautiful. He stepped in his quick, deliberate way, enjoying the city from the ground instead of from upon the rooftops. In the silence, he was aware of everything around him; the near silent padding of a small animal; the sound of the canopies of merchants stalls catching the wind and being pulled upwards, as if the breeze wished them to escape. He was mere minutes from the bureau when he heard a minute sound behind him. As a small as it was, it was undoubtedly the footsteps of another person.

He was being followed.

In response, Altaïr turned down a road to his right, walking in the opposite direction from the bureau but not giving an indication that he had realised what was happening. He instinctively flexed his right fist. He casually turned down another street and still he heard the soft shuffling, far behind him but still distinct. He ran through the possibilities in his head; a guard perhaps? Had he been recognised from his near escape last week? Or perhaps a common thief? Whoever it was, as long as they were nowhere near the bureau, Altaïr could easily deal with them.

The footsteps suddenly sounded closer, indicating to Altaïr that the person was becoming bolder, however the softness remained and so he could tell that the stalker was still not aware that he knew. He tried to discern who it was, listening for staggering but hearing nothing; it wasn't simply a drunk man on his way home. The following was without a doubt, deliberate.

Another few moments and Altaïr was starting to become faintly irritated. It had been over five minutes and yet the person had made no attempt to kill him. They were just following. Having made sure it wasn't just a harmless citizen, Altaïr waited until the gap between them had closed ever so slightly and then lunged backwards, grabbing his stalker by the neck and slamming them up against the wall, hearing the crack of their head connecting. As expected, the person's hands grappled at his wrist but they were surprisingly small and slender. He looked up and came instantly face to face with a woman. His eyes met hers and in that instant, he was a child again, looking imploringly at her as she stood upon the rock on that godforsaken night, with only her stony resistance staring back at him.

"Liv…" He choked, his hand falling away. Her face was unmistakeable. Her prettiness had flourished into beauty and the sad, exquisite eyes that had stared at him all those years ago were the same. For the first time in a long time, he was speechless.

Liv looked fearfully at how Altaïr's horrified expression quickly turned to anger. She had put her life in his hands by coming here but had no guarantee that he wouldn't immediately crush it.

"Altaïr…" She began imploringly, as if trying to reason with him, her head throbbing from where she'd been knocked against the wall.

"Don't say my name." He spat, not even looking at her. Looking at her would be like admitting she was there. She didn't say another word. All the sweet, emotional reunions that she had been hoping for were instantly dashed by the look of unfathomable fury upon his face. In all her wildest imaginings, she had never considered that he would be so angry. She hadn't trekked continuously between Damascus and Jerusalem to be faced with this. The night she ran away was branded upon her mind eternally and his threatening words before he had left forever were as clear now as they were then:

"_If I see you again I will have to kill you. I have failed my mission already but I will not fail again." _

Altaïr took a deep breath and steadied his sudden burst of anger. The initial shock of seeing her had conjured up his boyish emotions; his anger and his hatred. But they left as soon as they had appeared. There was still anger and more importantly, there was hurt, but there was also the sweetness of memories. He took a step forward and looked her in the eye.

"Altaïr!" She breathed joyfully, seeing the changed expression, the calm eyes. But suddenly, his face warped before her eyes and the throbbing in her head exploded, her knees crumpling underneath her.

"Liv!" Altaïr shouted, stricken, catching her body as it fell, limp to the floor. Her eyes fluttered back and she was drifting in and out of consciousness. Altaïr touched his hand to the back of her mass of curls and wasn't surprised to find blood; he had flung her hard against the stone wall. He grasped her cheeks and shook them, making sure she was at least blearily awake before he picked her up and began to walk to the bureau.

Even as he looked at her in all her breathtaking beauty, he wasn't surprised to find that he still felt nothing towards her beyond his platonic love. Ever since she had left he had missed her with all his heart. He'd lost his second sister. But that was all she was; a sister. He suddenly began to will himself to love her, as if by doing so, he could alleviate the pain he had caused her. But all he could think about as he looked upon the face were the years they had missed.

Liv's eyes flickered once more and she could vaguely make out his jaw from her odd angle. How lovely he was. She had seen him before today and at that time, she was only able to marvel at how wonderful he had become. But there had been a girl too; she remembered suddenly, what of the girl? When Liv had first seen her she had been so angry and jealous that she'd followed her to the inn where she was staying. She was slightly ashamed of how she had acted then but seeing Altaïr for the first time made her feel like she had ten years ago; a helpless child, madly in love. There had been the pain again also; the anger and most of all, the sorrow that she had missed out on being with him while somebody else now seemed to be.

She didn't regret leaving Masyaf, only Altaïr, but if she went back, Altaïr would have been killed for failure to carry out his duty. She couldn't remember when she had made the decision to try and find him again but it had been at least two years now. They were both older and wiser and she was sure that they could make things work now. Altaïr couldn't deny her now; she would make it easy for him to balance his life and work. She wouldn't be a distraction. Suddenly, her thoughts became fuzzy again and she slipped back out of consciousness only to have Altaïr slap her lightly on the cheek.

"It is dangerous to fall asleep with a head injury." He said quietly. She could only murmur incoherently in response but her quiet mumblings assured him that she was still awake. Now, his thoughts turned to Asra. What would he say to her? He had trusted her with his past already; Liv was simply part of that. However, the thought of telling Asra that Liv had suddenly appeared in his life again made him uncomfortable. She was far too gentle and trusting to be jealous but he felt like this was something he wanted to keep to himself. He needed to sort things out between himself and Liv first.

Altaïr reached the bureau and carefully slung Liv over his shoulder before scaling the wall up to the roof. The sky was still dark and the gentle glow of candles from within the bureau illuminated Asra's sleeping face as she lay, clothed thickly in her nest of blankets. He was relieved to see she was on her back, meaning that her wounds were not causing her pain any longer. But her peaceful slumber also meant that no-one was able to help him lower Liv down. He cursed silently and cradled Liv under one arm, dropping down rather more cumbersomely than usual. He laid Liv down and spent a few moments simply staring at her face, still hardly believing that she had appeared so suddenly into his life again. He felt so familiar looking at her like this and he smiled as he touched her face lightly and her eyebrows twitched. It occurred to him that he had nothing to fear from anyone in Masyaf now, should he choose to reinstate Liv there with him. He was the Grand Master now and he had killed the secret of Liv when he had killed Al Mualim. A small smile touched his lips at the thought and he felt as if he could make it work for them both. After making sure that she was in no imminent danger from her head injury, he passed Asra's peaceful yet haphazard form and walked to Nasih's desk. Nasih was still up, poring over documents within the half light of burning candles.

"Ah Altaïr, glad that you are finally here."

"You have something for me?" Altaïr enquired, given the tone of Nasih's voice.

"Yes, a very interesting piece of news, direct from Malik's desk. An Assassination obviously."

Under any other circumstance, this would have been news to which he would have reacted with his usual nonchalance. However now, with Liv lying only a few meters away, the prospect of having to leave both her and Asra left him feeling cold. He would have no control over what Liv told Asra or what she did. Inasmuch as he wished to trust Liv like he had before, he didn't truly know what she was like anymore. She could be nothing like the person he used to know and that set him on edge. He kneaded his forehead in irritation, not knowing where to place his loyalties, and turned to Nasih again.

"Fine, who is it?" He snapped.

Nasih registered his tone in surprise but knew not to pry.

"Conrad."

Altaïr cursed under his breath. "Damn. I will have to travel to Acre."

"Indeed. All other details are in this scroll." He said, handing it over, along with a single white eagle feather. "Malik requests that you leave today. Time is of the essence. His coronation is looming."

"Of all the times…" Altaïr fumed angrily under his breath, marching out into the other room without another word. He sat between the two sleeping women and unrolled the scroll, still an air of irritation cloaking him as he fumbled angry with the curling of the paper. Almost between each word, his eyes were drawn to Liv and after a few moments, he simply released the scroll and gazed at her.

Why had she come back? He'd been so angry on that night that his threat must have seemed real to her. Why did she return when she had been threatened with death? She must have found him simply by trial and error, there was no other way. With the knowledge that she had of the brotherhood, she would have known that there was constant travel between Damascus, Jerusalem and Acre. Those three cities were among the largest in the country and large cities have the most conflict; wherever there is conflict, there are the Assassins keeping an eye on it. But that is all she could have known. How long had she been searching for him? But what interested him most is where she had been all those years. As he gazed at her now, he only hoped that he would be able to make amends.

To his right, Asra was still asleep, now curled up tightly with the softest of smiles touching her sleeping face. Looking at her, he could only think of how much he had put _her _through as well. Since she had come into contact with him, she'd been attacked by thieves and captured and tortured by guards. He had sent Malik an update since arriving in Damascus, hence how Malik knew where he was, but he hadn't told him about what had happened to Asra. He couldn't do it; it would be like admitting failure. He was meant to be protecting her. He now just wanted to get her to Berothai as fast as he could. Falling in love with her on the way hadn't been part of the plan but his job came first. He had been asked to deliver her there and no matter his feelings, he would.

He stroked her cheek lightly, knowing how much he would miss her when the time came to leave her.

* * *

I felt the lightest of touches on my cheek and it broke the spell of sleep. I sat up and blearily tried to focus on Altaïr who I was relieved to see had returned after last night. I smiled at him and we said nothing to each other as I curled into his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around me. I would have fallen back to sleep had I not suddenly caught sight of a dainty foot that most certainly wasn't my own. I jumped out of his embrace in surprise, crawled over his outstretched legs and kneeled next to the sleeping form of the same beautiful woman I had seen on many occasions now; so many occasions now that it was bordering on uncomfortably fateful.

I looked at Altaïr wordlessly for some sort of explanation. "Found her injured." He replied simply. I turned from surprise to concern.

"Is she alright?" I asked, glancing over her body looking for any obvious wounds.

"She knocked her head." Altaïr said evasively.

"Is it alright for her to be sleeping?"

"Don't worry, she's alright, I've been monitoring her."

"If you're sure." I replied and stepped back over his legs, curling back into his side. We were both silent for a long time, not uncomfortably so, just quiet. Reflective was probably the word. Eventually his soft voice broke the calm.

"I'm going to have to leave later on today."

"I know." I replied, my eyes closed.

"Well you shouldn't, because the information was meant for my ears only." He smirked.

"It's a small building. You can't help what you hear." I shrugged.

"Like hell." He laughed.

"How long will it be for?"

"I don't know. I will be as quick as possible. In the meantime, be careful."

I nodded. "But what about her?" I enquired, looking in her direction.

He didn't answer for a minute and I was almost about to repeat my question when he gruffly replied: "I don't know."

"It's okay; I'll look after her here." I smiled, "I'm sure she'll be better in a few days, and then she can go back. She must have people worrying about her."

"Perhaps." He replied distractedly. "But be careful."

"Don't worry; I'm almost completely well again but, could you tell me, truthfully, what my back looks like?" I asked timidly, voicing the concerns that I'd only been thinking about up until now.

I turned around and pulled my tunic down slightly, exposing the top half of my back. I watched for Altaïr's reactions and sighed when he sucked in his breath a little in surprise. I hadn't expected much more.

"That bad?"

"It's not that it's particularly bad. I've seen and sustained worse myself but on you…on you it's horrific."

"Don't sweeten it..." I muttered, "What does it look like?" I enquired morbidly, as if I wasn't talking about my own body.

"You've seen my chest. It's like that, only redder. But they'll fade in time." He replied, touching his fingers to my back and following the lines of my scars so that I could feel where they were.

I sighed and pulled my tunic back up, sitting back down next to him. Strangely, having these wounds really didn't bother me. I think it's probably due to the fact that I wasn't able to see them.

"You're still beautiful." He murmured.

"I'm sure you'd be saying something different if they were on my face." I laughed.

He didn't reply to my quip and I glanced up at him; he was staring into the wall opposite. "I'm so sorry." He said, his voice rough.

"Altaïr, you saved me from so much worse. This wasn't your fault." He still didn't say anything. "They're only scars; they're superficial, just aesthetic." I assured him, "They don't bother me so they shouldn't bother you!"

He chuckled quietly and pulled me closer. "I'm glad." We sat together for a few moments longer before he stood up and announced that he was packing. I shuffled closer to the beautiful woman and checked her over, feeling her temperature and checking her breathing. She was sleeping very deeply but she was well. I didn't want her to be alone when she woke, so I kept a constant vigil while listening to Altaïr clattering around in adjacent rooms.

Gradually, the dark morning began to melt away to give way to the sun that threw facets of light through the ceiling, illuminating the woman's face and warming my body. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the gentle heat, opening them again a few minutes later to find the woman sitting bolt upright and wide eyed in shock. She looked about to shout.

"No, no! Please don't scream! You're okay, my name is Asra. You were brought here early this morning by my friend. You hit your head really hard. How do you feel?"

She looked at me like I was sprouting extra limbs, her body tense and ready as if she was about to flee, like an animal caught in a trap. She moved slightly but winced in pain, her hand flying automatically to her head.

"Don't move too much." I advised, "Let me get you a drink."

I grabbed a cup from next door, catching Altaïr's eye and wildly, wordlessly indicating for him to help. He looked displeased at the idea but followed me through and stood there, statuesque, while I filled the cup up from the fountain and handed it to her.

"Thank you." She said quietly, her eyes on Altaïr the whole time as she sipped slowly. I felt uncomfortable looking at her because of how intensely she was looking at him, as if I was invading upon some private moment. I fidgeted nervously with my hands, not knowing quite what to say to either of them. It was just uncomfortable.

Altaïr looked at the woman and then sighed.

"I shall be leaving now." He announced.

"So soon?" I replied, standing up and walking to him.

"I must."

"Good Luck." I kissed him only on the cheek, conscious that the woman was completely focused on us, staring at us with an intensity that was unnerving.

Altaïr also seemed conscious of her presence and avoided touching me. "Be careful please." He said in hushed tones meant for me only. He looked at the woman as he spoke and squeezed my hands in place of any other display of affection.

The woman's eyes, almost her whole body, followed him the whole way even as he was climbing the fountain.

And as his foot disappeared from view, so I was left with the woman.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

"Where is he going?" She asked suddenly, almost accusatorily and I was momentarily taken aback at her tone.

"I-I'm not really sure." I replied evasively. She looked at me carefully for a moment and then turned away again, staring at her hands in her lap. She looked inexplicably crushed, glancing up at the ceiling every now and then as if she expected him to return. For some reason, this is not how I had expected her to be.

"Would you like some food?" I enquired softly, feeling a curious need to treat her gently, like a small child.

"Yes." She replied monotonously, no colour to her voice.

I walked next door to Nasih's desk to find him rolling his eyes despairingly.

"Am I to take it that Altaïr has brought yet _another_ person here?"

"She was injured."

"This isn't an infirmary!" He yelled at me, as if I was to blame, "Just as well Altaïr is who he is, or else I would have very many unkind words to say about him _and_ to him."

"Could I get some food for her?" I asked timidly.

He walked off, crashed around in the pantry for a few moments and then returned, slamming a loaf of bread onto the desk with enough force to distort its shape.

"Here." He said gruffly.

"Thank you." I replied hastily, nodding my head slightly and escaping his black mood as fast as possible.

I offered it to her like I would a timid animal, coaxing and gentle. She took it from my hand and began taking small bites, still glancing to the sky. She was so beautiful, so womanly, yet at the moment, she had the countenance of a child, lost and lonely. I at least knew, from the time I had encountered her on the road to Damascus, that she was capable of adult emotions. Her anger and hatred was like nothing that a child could feel. But now, she simply looked pathetic.

I touched my hands to the blankets beside me and felt around until I came across the gentle bulge of the money pouch. It was still full of money that Malik had entrusted to Altaïr on my behalf, which he had later given to me to keep. I clasped it in my hands and looked at the woman once more, noting her battered appearance and her blood matted hair, and decided to treat her to a bath. She looked like she could do with some kindness.

"What's your name?" I asked. She looked up slowly from the ground upon hearing my voice and seemed to think for a moment before saying: "Livanya."

Hearing her full name only gave me the beginnings of the realisation that was to come later.

She finished the last mouthful of bread and resumed looking intensely at her hands in her lap.

"Let me take you to a bath." I said, breaking the heavy atmosphere that she managed to create. She looked at me and gave me a weak smile that I took for compliance.

Nasih grudgingly yielded and let us out the door instead of forcing us to climb up the fountain but whispered forcibly in my ear on my way out that if I compromised the location of the bureau, he would deal with me himself.

I pulled up my scarf to cover my head as the hot, dusty air blew over my face. Even though it was humid and warm, it was the first breeze I had encountered for a long time now and I was simply happy for wide open sky above my head. I had no recollection of where the baths were, so I decided to head towards the busiest place I could and then ask someone.

The walk was painfully silent but there was an almost tangible change coming over Livanya as we moved. With no words of any kind, her mood change and she became the person that I'd guessed she would be; she was confident, self-assured and powerful.

And as she improved, so my status lessened. A few moments ago, I had been caring for her, but now, she was completely in control and dominant. She was the kind of person whose opinion counted more than others. She exuded a power that spoke of her keen self assurance and you could tell that her disposition a few moments ago had been completely out of character. I was now the lesser person.

I was also the lesser female. How people stared! As if she were a heavenly being descended to earth to be feasted upon by the eyes of mere mortals. It is true though, that if there were goddesses, they would look like her.

Eventually, we reached a busy square and I singled out a man standing next to a tree, asking him the directions to the nearest baths; I didn't want to go too far afield as I was worried I wouldn't be able to find my way back to the bureau.

Whereas before, I felt happy and calm with her, now I was acutely and painfully aware of Livanya's presence, feeling silly leading her like I was. She didn't seem like a person who liked to be lead, even though she was dutifully following. Having been directed to a bath house, I didn't want to make any indications to her that we were moving; it would seem too much like an order so I rather pathetically just started walking. However, she still followed behind me, thanking the man and flashing him a beautiful smile that left him looking vaguely euphoric.

The bath we had been directed to was a simple public bath but still clean, spacious and decently priced. I paid for us both and the owner directed us to a place where we could change and store our clothes while we bathed. I could hear the chatter of other women and I felt more at ease knowing that I wouldn't have to be with her alone. A part of me just wished that I could go back to the bureau. Taking her to the bath had been a way to make her feel better but she didn't need any such treatment now. However there was no turning back, so I pulled off my clothes, accepting a robe from the owner and packed my clothes into a designated shelf. I was very careful not to show my back and kept my robe wrapped tightly around myself. Livanya followed suit and I couldn't help it, I had to look. Her skin looked as smooth as silk; a deep bronze colour and her limbs were long and refined, making me feel oddly gawky next to her and she stood nearly half a head above me. She took the robe but did not cover herself.

We both stepped into the bathing area and Livanya descended slowly into the baths as she accustomed herself to the heat. I didn't drop my robe until the very last moment; until I knew nobody could see and then I followed her in. I closed my eyes and sank under the water up to my nose, the hot water loosening every cramped muscle until I felt light and supple. The chatter of a group of woman further in was a pleasant murmur that mixed in with the sound of flowing water and the strong spicy scents of the bath. Livanya tested her wound by dipping her head back tentatively. I was pleased to see that she didn't recoil in pain. She submerged herself for a moment and then popped up next to my face, looking already brighter.

"How is your head?" I asked.

"Fine thank you." She smiled, brushing her hair through her hands, removing the curls until it was sleek and straight against her head.

"How did you get it again?" I asked, feeling more at ease in her presence now that my body was relaxed as well.

"Carelessness." She replied darkly, "Luckily Altaïr helped me."

"Exactly, who knows what could have happened otherwise." I agreed.

"He is very kind, isn't he?" She said, looking at me in the eye and walking to the side of the bath where she could sit on the step. There was an air about her that beckoned me and I had no choice but to comply.

"He is." I replied, smiling slightly despite myself.

She paused and looked at me, apparently trying to gauge something in my answer and countenance. Seemingly displeased with her own conclusion, she asked: "How do you know him?"

"I…I am merely being escorted by him upon orders from my cousin." I replied, feeling strangely deflated by my own words. I suppose the truth isn't always the most agreeable.

"Yet you kissed him." She stated sharply. This was an interrogation in the guise of something sweeter.

I felt ashamed. When I was with him, I didn't seem to care what people thought. But now that he was gone, it dawned on me that Livanya must see me as extremely inappropriate. I wasn't married and yet I was doing such improper things.

"I have no excuse. We had just become quite close during the weeks we've spent in each other's company…."I replied, not quite looking her in the eyes.

"So there is nothing between you?" She enquired, her light tone not quite concealing the intense curiosity I could hear.

"Well…I…" I grappled with the words, wondering whether I should really admit to anything, "I suppose there is something…" I finished shyly.

She drew in a breath and gave me an awkward smile as an afterthought, as if she thought that was how she was meant to respond.

"I see." She mused, no longer really looking at me, more looking through me. Her reverie lasted no more than a heartbeat before she snapped up brightly and said: "So! Tell me all about him!"

I was drawn into her apparent enthusiasm and charm and felt like I should talk to her. She inspired a sort of trust, although trust was probably not the right word. It was more like her overbearing attitude compelled you to speak. I didn't have a choice.

"There isn't much to tell," I began quietly; "we have been together for just under a month. He's taking me to live with my relatives…-"

"And he will leave you once you've arrived?" She interjected sharply.

"I don't know…" I murmured sadly.

"Surely it cannot be that bad. You have only known him for a few weeks." She sniffed dismissively.

"Well, no, it's not quite like that…" I countered softly, but I couldn't speak any louder. She inhibited my ability to stand up for myself. She was definitely a woman whose opinion counted more than anyone else's. Her dismissive rebuttal had a finality about it that I found hard to contend with, even if I disagreed with her.

"Why are you so interested?"

She looked at me for a moment and sighed. "Well, if truth be told, for I want to be honest and for us to be friends, I've known Altaïr a long time. We've fallen out of touch for these last few years but we grew up together."

I gasped inadvertently as I suddenly realised why her name sounded so familiar.

"Liv!" I breathed, barely believing that fate had landed her so squarely in our midst. My second though, after such an unexpected and shocking realisation, was that Altaïr was a bastard and I would never forgive him for not telling me who she was before she left. Provided of course that he knew it was her…

"Livanya! Does Altaïr know that it's you? He'd be so thrilled to kno…-"

"Of course he does." She sniffed indignantly. Her tone, I realised, must be due to the fact that he had left so abruptly. Probably not quite the reunion that she had envisaged.

"Oh." I mouthed.

What a bastard.

"So…you are the Liv that Altaïr has told me about..." I whispered in almost wonderment. As if Altaïr's stories had suddenly come alive.

How I hadn't worked this out earlier, I cannot fathom but a clearer picture finally formed in my mind. The angry looks on the road to Damascus, the misery and confusion when Altaïr had left, the pointed questions and the way she had looked at Altaïr that day in the market all made sense. I felt even more uncomfortable looking at her; being in her presence. She had known Altaïr for so much longer than I that I began to feel a nuisance. As if I was standing in the way of what should have been.

"He has talked to you about me?" She repeated, curious.

"Just a little." I replied timidly. Livanya smirked but hastily pretended that she hadn't.

"Why have you come back?" I asked.

"We used to be so close; I wanted to resume what we had together. But it seems I am a bit late…" She replied, her eyes narrowing imperceptibly.

"No, I…I'm sorry." I apologised. A lifetime of small insecurities led me to feel that suddenly Livanya held more 'claim' than I. Altaïr had erased much of that unfortunate trait but in his absence, niggling worries and small self doubts crept back.

"Well, he did ask me to come back so I can't imagine I'm that late…" She mused, seemingly thinking out loud.

"He asked you?"

"But of course!" She asked, looking shocked.

"I didn't know that…" I replied, shrinking a little further down into the water.

"I'm sure he meant nothing by it." She assured me with a blasé wave of her hand.

I felt confused and strangely fatigued but a silence between us would only give me time to think so I quickly asked: "Why did you fall out of contact?"

"Oh, small misunderstanding." She said hastily, "But Altaïr told me that he wanted to put everything behind us and start anew together."

"Really…" I whispered, "…Is that so. I think that wonderful." And I wasn't being insincere. I did think it was wonderful. Of course, It hurt as well. I would have liked to be told, or at least, I would have liked that Altaïr had timed things better. I didn't like being left alone with her. I felt so weak around her.

I tried to ignore her last word; 'together'. I didn't like the way her lyrical voice rang on its syllables, drawing it out for me to hear. I did not want to think about it at all. And pushing away the bad things was something I was rather good at and so for now, I tried not to let it linger with me.

* * *

Liv had always considered herself a good person. But now she was not so sure. And then she remembered that she would do anything to be with Altaïr. Lying, cheating and trickery were not out of the question and she realised that she was going to need to be tough to do what had to be done and secure her happiness. She had missed out on it for so long but now, it was her time to set it right.

* * *

I moved away from her, not as fast as I would have like given that I was wading through water, but to a comfortable distance where her heavy aura couldn't suffocate me. I didn't really know what to think so I washed myself, a task for which brain power is not required.

Many minutes had passed when suddenly Livanya spoke again but the tone was different.

"You need to remember that Altaïr is an Assassin, Asra. He is very good at putting his duty before his feelings. It is the nature of his job. Do not delude yourself into thinking that you will come first." She said, her voice stony. This was not meant to be spiteful; this was the cold, plain, hard truth.

It hit me unexpectedly and dug deep, uprooting thoughts and doubts and worries that had been simmering under the surface for weeks. I wanted to answer her back but what retort can you have to the truth?

* * *

We were on our way silently back to the bureau when Livanya asked me if she could peruse the stalls in the souk. There was obviously no way I could deny her, she only asked out of politeness. She knew she didn't need to go through me at all. Inwardly grudgingly, outwardly gracefully, I complied and we walked towards the beautiful shelter of the market stalls, the vague red reflection of carpets still glowing within its walls, making it seem like a cave of treasures. It felt strange to be back around here; the scene of what I could only call Altaïr's 'de-cloaking'. I was strangely thankful that it had happened for now I knew him better than I ever had before; I had paid for my knowledge however but I was still grateful. Even stranger was that I had seen Livanya properly here all those weeks ago; the divine face that had stopped me in my tracks. I wondered now if Altaïr had also seen her but had hidden it from me.

Livanya walked slowly between stalls, admiring the odd ring or feeling the thick weave of a well made carpet. I traipsed behind her, feeling like the incompliant child who only stays where they are due to the possibility of incurring parental wrath. We both stopped outside a particularly rich stall, draped in finery with its wares being even finer than its presentation. The merchant was hovering carefully around his goods, always on edge. He was selling particularly beautiful jewellery, but I was in no mood even to browse and I left Livanya to fawn in peace, standing by the side as inauspiciously as possible. Livanya moved closer to me, a strange undertone of sorrow deep within her magnificent eyes as hers met mine. But it lasted no more than a second as she walked behind me and around to view the items closer to where I was standing. She walked strangely close.

Suddenly, amidst the crowds, so busy that it was hard to tell where one person ended and the other began, Livanya's startled voice cried out, cleaving through the already noisy crowd.

"Thief!"

The effect was instantaneous. The crowds turned eerily quiet and there was a unified 'swish' as everyone turned to stare at Livanya. I turned towards her too, to ask if she was alright but I was stopped in my tracks when I saw that her finger was pointing directly at me. I stared blankly at her, feeling the weight of hundreds of pairs of eyes upon me and then I heard the panicked call for the guards….

* * *

_Ahh! Guys, you really are the best readers, you're so patient and stick with me even though I can't update for SHIZZ. (Well, in all honesty, what could you do anyway? But what I mean is that you're gracious and don't shoot me down in flames! Even though that's what I really deserve.)_

_Basically, I'm doing my AS levels at the moment (Memo to you all. AS levels are a silly bunch of exams invented in ye old England that exist only to piss you off and stress you out. I say that with all validity because universities don't actually care about them, they only like GCSEs and A Levels. AS levels are just a stupid inbetweeny thing there to 'keep us interested' (that's not quoted from anyone but you get the idea...)) SOOO! in my attempt not the fail them, I don't spend much time doing 'frivolous' things that I like doing like reading, writing and sewing...(My mum's worried for me. She says I'm not a real teenager and that I should be out taking drugs not inside sewing costumes :D) So, I'm really sorry that everything is taking so long! I've had two exams already (Spanish was great, Japanese was RUBBISH!) and I have a few more to slog through before I'm effectively on holiday and can relax and do things I like doing!_

_LOVE YOU GUYS!_

_- Minnie_


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

Suddenly, the merchant roared and lunged at me. But he needn't have done for I wasn't going anywhere. I was rooted to the spot in shock.

"Livanya?!"

The merchant grabbed my arm roughly.

"What? No!" I yelled, beginning to struggle now that the gravity of my situation hit me. "I haven't done anything!"

The crowd began to part as two guards, hands braced over the hilts of their swords, jogged towards us.

I turned my eyes to Livanya in angry disbelief.

"What are you doing? You know I haven't done anything!" I seethed.

She didn't look triumphant or smug, like I had expected her to, just empty, staring at me but beyond me. The merchant roughly threw me towards the guards, so hard that my fall was only broken when my back smashed into their chests. They instantly grabbed my arms and held them tightly behind my back while the merchant marched towards me and grappled with the folds of my clothes, trying to find what I had apparently stolen, while I could do nothing but struggle and kick out to no effect.

With horror and a sick, sinking feeling, the man drew out an intricate brooch from my pocket. I could barely believe my eyes as I gazed, open mouthed, upon it. How had she done it? There was no way to claim innocence now.

"Bitch!" He shouted, lashing out towards me but the guards stopped him by yanking me back out of harm's way.

"We shall deal with her. Not you." The guard to my left answered. I was thankful for being saved from a slap but given what could be in store for me, I think I would rather be slapped a hundred times over; there was every possibility that I wouldn't leave with my hand.

"I didn't do it!" I shouted in vain.

Livanya continued to look at me. I couldn't believe that she would stoop so low. I almost pitied her. But right now, there wasn't time for pity; there was time for panic.

"It wasn't me!" I yelled again, looking imploringly at anyone but the chances of being believed we painfully slim. The guards had seemingly had enough of my protestations and began to haul me the way they had come, both of them holding on to my arms so tightly that I was barely walking by myself. The crowd stepped away from me as if I was diseased, their noses turned up and their looks of disgust boring into me with every step. The weight of so much antipathy was a burden I wasn't used to carrying and the shame almost angered me more than Livanya's trickery.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked, as politely as I could once we had left the reams of people flowing through the souk. I say politely but it was only a short lived attempt; I was angry and indignant and I sounded it.

The two men snorted derisively. "Where do you think? The only place fit for scum like you is prison and you will be held there until we can be bothered to deal with you." The man to my right laughed at the injustice I was seemingly going to be subject to.

"Until you can be bothered?!" I repeated incredulously.

"I can tell you now that law breaking scum are at the bottom of my list of priorities." Sniggered the man on my right.

"And in the event that you can be bothered, what will happen to me?" I asked, far angrier than worried now.

"The usual." They said in unison, then laughing at their coincidental timing like simpletons.

"That is?" I coaxed again. Talking to them was like smashing my head repeatedly against a brick wall.

"Removal of the hand."

I groaned despite myself and they seemed to draw strength from my anguish, speeding up as we reached a large featureless building surrounded by high walls with a pair of lightly armed guards at the front entrance.

"Welcome to your new home!" One of them announced sarcastically, looking to me for some sort of reaction. I rewarded him with my best scowl.

"I haven't done anything you know." I repeated as I was marched down a dreary hallway, no way improved despite the daylight streaming through from high, barred windows.

"That's what they all say." The one of the right sighed, earning a snort from his companion who I had decided was lacking even more in brains than the right one.

This was a poor excuse for a prison. The large room I had been led to was guarded by one extremely rotund man and another who looked as if he wished he was in purgatory having his feet burned by the devil himself, rather than here. Neither of them looked as though they cared about anything at all, not least the horde of men screaming and shouting abuse at them. Every now and then the fat man would lash out a pudgy arm and try to whack away the prisoner whose arms were closest to him as they grappled at him in vain. The inmates seemed only to be doing it for annoyance sake and it brought a tiny smile to my face as they resumed the instant the guard's fat arm had reached his side.

I glanced closer at all the prisoners and to my delight, they all had their hands. I allowed it to be my small bit of hope. The relief gave way to some confidence (more like bravado) and I decided to be extremely difficult and the guards had to grapple and fight with me to force me into my cell. I managed to make them both curse and sweat. However, the force of two against one meant I had no chance and so eventually, I was bundled into the cell, the door was slammed and the two stupid guards walked off without a word.

The two guards in the main prison didn't even turn to look at me, nor did they look as if they'd take any notice at all in the coming hours. I was almost indignant at how little they noticed me. I felt less than pleased with how my prison experience was panning out. But after the first time I'd been captured, this was nothing. I realised I wasn't even scared, just angry. Uncharacteristically angry. But despite the bravado, soon came the realisation that I still didn't know how to get out. Altaïr wasn't here to save me this time and Nasih would be no help; Livanya would weave him a pretty story that he wouldn't bother to contend with until they'd cut my hand off and thrown me in their deepest darkest pits to rot for the rest of my life, without reprieve. Wonderful.

I walked to the bars and yanked hard; they were weak, but I was weaker and there was no way I'd be able to pull them apart, not that I had ever thought I'd be able to, but everything was worth a try. Plan one had been a failure. Plan two was to fiddle with the locks and hope they'd snap off. Plan two also a failure. I found it hard to think with the incessant shouting of the men beside me but would never have the guts to tell them to shut up.

Rather pathetically, that was me out of ideas already. I sat, knees crossed, in front of the door to my cell like a petulant child, watching the day progress until the last light seeped away and I was plunged in a hazy darkness. As soon as the light dissipated the fat guard and the bored guard gleefully danced out of the hall of cells as fast as they could but we weren't left on our own. I could see the briefest of exchanges with the guards outside at the entrance before the other two walked off, leaving them stoically remaining.

"Good job boys, I think we managed to piss 'em off sufficiently today!" One of the men called, earning a raucous cheer from the other inmates. I smiled despite myself and realised that I sympathised with apparent criminals, but given my situation I had reason to believe many of them weren't as guilty as was to be first assumed.

I stood up and peered around through my bars as far as I was able and just as I was about to call to them, the man who had spoken just before called to me.

"New girl!" He announced, bringing on another cheer from the men who I could tell were all situated near the door. "Nice to meet you!" He said pleasantly.

"Lovely to meet you too." I replied graciously, more than a little amused at the irony. This supposed criminal was far nicer than the so called upholders of the law.

"What are you in for…?" He called, his pause prompting me to call out my name.

"Ah, Asra. What are you in for?"

"Theft apparently, except that I was set up and I've never stolen so much as a spoon in my whole entire life." I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice and the men chuckled at my indignation.

"Life isn't always fair." The man replied. He seemed to be somewhat of a leader as he was the only man who ever spoke.

"Most of us 'aint done anything either." He replied before sticking an arm out of his cell and pointing to a man in front of me.

"Except him. He punched someone after a few too many! And him-," the man's arm swung around to point to the cell next to him; "he tried and rather spectacularly failed at nicking some necklace or something."

"Why'd ya 'av to tell her that!?" the man cried out indignantly, earning unsympathetic shouts of derision, but they were all in good humour.

"I'm sure it was a rather fine piece." I replied smiling, feeling as if I was enjoying a party and not stuck in a prison cell. "The piece I was meant to have stolen was rather fine as well!"

"Got anyone who can afford to get you out?" The leader asked.

"You can pay someone to get out?!" I said sceptically, earning yet more laughs from this rather jolly group of men.

"Why of course! If we can get stuck in here as innocents, doesn't say much for the prison system does it! All ya need to do is pay the guards and they'd let you walk right out of her, murderer or no!"

I cursed Livanya yet again. "I had no idea but unfortunately no. The only person who knows I'm here is the one who set me up in the first place." I sighed, wishing that my fist was connecting with Livanya's nose, "How about you guys, don't you have anyone who could get you out?"

"Nah, most of us 'aint got the kinda cash they're after, our families can't do nothing for us."

"How long have you been here then?" I asked.

"Most of us 'av been 'ere a few years, some a couple of months, to you whose been 'ere for a few hours."

"And most of you haven't done anything?"

"Well, of course we did _something_ but it's things like stealin' bread for hungry mouths. I'll admit to robbin' someone, but only because me children were starving. Same goes for most of the men here. Apart from 'im next to me, we didn't do nothin' for personal gain. Desperation makes us all do silly things. But don't you worry love, we'll keep you company!"

I was immensely grateful for his kindness but didn't mention that his words didn't put me at ease. I had no wish to stay here for any longer than I had to, company or no company, and was determined to get out. I didn't reply further save for voicing my heartfelt gratitude at their companionship and instead sat down close to the bars again, trying not to allow hopelessness take the place of positivity. But it wasn't until five days later that luck, in the form of a little girl, came to my aid…

* * *

Livanya watched the crowd dissipate, whispering excitedly amongst themselves but she herself felt no discernable emotion. She stayed where she was, oblivious to others, in a state of blankness, no thoughts running through her head. She was empty. This unusual feeling stayed with her until Altaïr's face flashed in her mind as if to remind her of her goal. Her expression softened and smile finally touched her lips and she was able to move onwards. She remained away from bureau for many many hours until the light fizzled away. This gave her time to form a concrete story that she could tell Nasih now and then Altaïr when he returned, separate from her sketchy impulsiveness but a few hours before. She made sure not to think of Asra, for as much as there was a deep rooted loathing, Livanya knew in her heart of hearts that Asra had done nothing to deserve it. If she thought about her too much, she knew that her resolve would begin to crumble. It would be easier for her if she continued to hate Asra.

She reached the bureau well after dark and deliberately walked to the door, overriding the desire to climb through the correct entrance. She took a deep breath and then frantically knocked.

Nasih opened the door furtively and caught a glimpse of the woman who had been with Asra this morning. She looked on the verge of tears and he quickly ushered her in.

"Where's Asra?" He asked, once they were safely within the confines of the bureau.

Livanya gasped and made it seem as if she was trying not to cry.

"I'm sorry, I cannot tell you! She swore me to secrecy!" She gave a choked sobbed and Nasih felt queasy at the thought of having to deal with a hysterical woman.

"Calm down!" He grumbled, but there was no harshness. He took her by the shoulders and sat her down on the edge of the fountain.

"What has happened to her?"

"I cannot tell you details, she confided in me and it would be wrong to break my word!" She buried her head in her hands for effect and sniffled like a woman on the verge of a full blown tearful breakdown.

"Okay, okay, I understand that but at least give me a few details!" He coaxed, using as calming a voice as he was able to avoid a full hysterical mess.

"She has run away!"

"Run away?"

"Yes." She said a little more soberly, looking up into Nasih's eyes and allowing a tear to glisten down her cheek.

"What do you mean? Why?"

"She said she was scared of that Altaïr but she gave me no further explanation."

Nasih looked dumfounded but nodded for her to go on.

"And she said that she was being held here against her will and didn't want to travel to where she was being taken."

Again, Nasih did not reply.

"She told me that this was her only chance to escape but that I must tell you so that you can tell Altaïr not to look for her, nor worry for her." At this point she allowed a full sob to escape her lips and heightened the gesture by seeking apparent solace in Nasih's chest. Nasih awkwardly patted her shoulder and could barely believe what he had heard.

If he had thought with his head, he would not have trusted this woman's information without attempting to confirm it further; however, all he could think of was Altaïr and how awful it would be for him to hear such terrible news; that all he had shared with that wench was a lie. For a few short moments, his heart took over his head and he felt a sense of deep remorse that Altaïr would have to return only to hear the worst. She seemed to have made him much happier.

"Are you sure this is all you can tell me?" He asked after a short while, trying to avoid the pleading tone that threatened to creep into his voice.

"She didn't really tell me much more than that." Livanya sniffled quietly, "She just left begging me to deliver this message."

"I see, well thank you." He stood up and left her sitting on the edge of the fountain only stopping when her soft voice broke the heavy silence.

"Please, is it alright if I stay here a bit longer? Asra begged me to stay and make sure Altaïr was told."

Nasih felt too drained to argue and he nodded once before resuming his contemplative trudge to his desk.

* * *

Nearly a whole five days had passed in this godforsaken building and even imagining breaking Livanya's perfect nose was getting boring. I hadn't eaten for nearly three days and I was hungry, bored and most of all, starting to become desperate.

When the two guards were here during the day, we were unable to speak amongst ourselves and instead, the men whittled away their hours by annoying the guards in every conceivable manner, much to my constant amusement. It seemed to be the only way to stave off insanity. I could not fathom how some of the men had been here for years; I had been here for less than a week and I was already ludicrously bored. But most of all was the sense of hopelessness that over took me with every hour.

My fifth day here began to draw to a close and it became time for the two guards to leave. We watched them walk out, have their customary exchange with the guards outside and then leave, our view obscured through the wrought iron bars of the prison entrance. The leader – who's name I had since discovered was Ra'if – congratulated the men – as he did every day – on their excellent efforts in today's bout of going to extreme lengths to irritate the guards.

"You know, one day, they're going to snap and probably snap you." I noted drily.

"Oh come now Asra!" laughed Ra'if.

Suddenly, our laughter was cut through by the heavy clunk of the thick wooden door. Through the bars, I could see a small child wheeling what looked like a table of some sorts. It seemed to mean more to the other men who cheered wildly upon seeing it.

"Grubs up!" Ra'if shouted, for the benefit of those further down who might not be able to see, causing murmured sounds of appreciation. The rumbling of stomachs was almost audible.

However it was not the sight of food that had me staring, eyes riveted to the door as it was pushed open to reveal the food cart. It was the willowy girl herself. There was an unshakeable feeling that I had seen her before and the realisation caused me to gasp, the sudden indescribable feeling of relief and joy washing through me without control.

"Johara!" I cried, rushing to the bars of my cell with the relief of a woman who may have just been granted a way out.

The little bath girl's face snapped up and she looked at me in confusion before realisation dawned on her too. She looked shocked and stared at me crossly, rushing up towards me.

"Miss, what are you doing here? I thought you were a nice person but you're in prison!" Johara's childlike logic and cross little expression made me smile despite myself.

"No Johara, no, I'm in here by mistake! A bad person made it look like I stole something."

She looked at me sceptically, arms crossed at her chest and her eyes narrowed with indecision.

"How do I know if you're telling the truth Miss?" asked Johara, the little girl in the midst of no doubt the biggest moral dilemma of her tender years.

I smiled sadly, "You don't Johara; you just have to believe me." The men meanwhile had no notion of what was going on and I could feel their quizzical stares and hear their rumbling stomachs.

Johara looked at me sternly, staring into my eyes as if they held the answers. Her little form relaxed after a moment and I could tell that she had come to her decision.

"But what can I do miss?" She asked desperately, her brow furrowed with confusion and uncertainty, "I only deliver the food and not every day at that!"

An idea struck me. "I've seen that little boy who comes to deliver food to the four guards here. Can you take his place tomorrow?"

"I can but to what ends?" She said desperately.

"We need to knock them out or make them ill or something! They need to be vulnerable so we can escape!"

I had no knowledge of any drugs that could do such a thing but with a flash of memory I remembered a conversation I had had with Altaïr after we'd been to the Apothecary in Phasaelis. Something about two drugs…both beginning with 'H'…

"That's it!" I cried triumphantly. Johara looked shocked at my outburst but leaned in to hear my idea.

"I need you to go an apothecary, is there one you know of?"

She nodded and I felt spurred onwards.

"I need you to find Henbane."

"Henbane." She repeated dutifully.

"Yes, Henbane and buy a lot."

"I have no money miss." She said quietly.

My face suddenly fell and I felt the beginnings of despair creep forward to take the place of my current enthusiasm. But then it occurred to me that I had never been stripped of my items before being put her. My hand dove into my pocket and I drew out my money bag.

"Here, Johara. Take it all," I shoved it into her unsuspecting hands, "Spend what you need in the apothecary and then keep the rest."

"Miss I cannot, it is too much!" She pleaded again, just like she had done in the bath when I had given her only one gold coin.

"Johara, you will be risking a lot here, the least I can do is compensate you for your troubles."

Thankfully, she saw the truth in my words and reluctantly pocketed the bag.

"Are you sure you want to do this Johara?"

"I want to help!" She said determinedly. I smiled but wasn't satisfied.

"Are you sure? You won't be able to come back to work here, you may be implicated."

"I know but I'm sure. Beside's I've got a lot of money now." Her little eyes flashed and I knew she wouldn't fail me.

"Thank you so much Johara." I said, my voice thick with gratitude.

"Tomorrow then, before the guards leave?" She confirmed softly but nervously.

I nodded, "Yes, I need you to place the henbane in their food and then you can take the keys away from the guards once they are unconscious. We'll release ourselves and then tie them up." I explained.

"Okay miss, I'll do my best."

I smiled warmly at her, standing up from the crouched position I had assumed to speak to her. I touched her head.

"That's all I can ask. I'm already indebted to you."

Once she'd distributed the food and left with my plan in mind, I explained it all to the rest of the men and that night, the sense of tentative yet exuberant hope was tangible.

* * *

Upon returning from his exhausting trip to Acre and the messy assassination it had been, the only person whose face Altaïr had wanted to see was Asra's. However as he climbed onto the roof of the bureau and dropped down, he immediately sensed something was amiss. The pile of blankets Asra had taken to resting on where neat and folded to the side, obviously untouched for days. But more unnerving was the appearance of Liv and Nasih, alone, both standing stoically. Nasih was avoiding eye contact and Livanya was staring too hard.

"Where is she?" Altaïr demanded, his fatigue now completely forgotten.

Nasih stayed uncharacteristically silent, glancing at Liv exclusively as if for guidance. Liv did not look at Nasih; her eyes were focused on Altaïr.

Altaïr's head turned from one to the other but still not words escaped their lips.

"Speak for god's sake, one of you, where is she?" He shouted, infuriated by the eerie silence. He still could not look at Liv, he had only just accepted the fact that she had returned so suddenly into his life and so he turned to Nasih for answers.

Nasih turned away, in sadness and embarrassment, and would not meet his gaze. Liv looked at him and sighed, wondering how he could be a member of the brotherhood and have so little courage. With the pragmatism and coldness they were taught to feel, surely telling one man that his little wench had run away would be nothing.

"Altaïr, come with me. We need to talk." Liv said, her voice the epitome of the calm pragmatism she felt Nasih should display.

Liv made to move forwards but Altaïr grabbed her arm tight between his shaking hand and she stopped her purposeful walk, startled.

"Do not play games with me." He spat, his voice now pure venom. "If one of you does not give me an answer now, I will make sure you both regret it until the day you die."

Nasih cracked.

"Altaïr, my brother, I am so sorry. She has gone."

Liv felt the pressure on her arm release in an instant.

"What do you mean, gone?" Altaïr bit.

"The morning you left. She went out and never returned, leaving only the message that she had to be free of the fear and restriction placed upon her by… you." Nasih spoke as if the words were curses, tentatively, as if he was afraid that at any moment, Altaïr would lash out at him for being the bearer of such news.

But Altaïr seemed unable to speak. His expression contrasted painfully with his tall, strong frame and the bewilderment was unlike anything Nasih or Liv had ever seen before.

"This cannot be." Was all he could force out before he strode, nearly shaking, out of the room and straight up the fountain. Liv looked desperately at him and bade Nasih wait while she quickly followed after him.

"Altaïr." She called, climbing as capably as he did. "Altaïr. Altaïr, please wait!"

He did not listen and continued walking deliberately onwards. "Altaïr WAIT!" She shouted in frustration. He stopped and turned around so fast, his expression so thunderous that she recoiled in fear.

"Altaïr please just stop. Speak to me." She struggled against her own urge to turn away from the anger in his eyes as she clasped his hands in hers.

"There is nothing to say." He spat bitterly, deliberately removing his hands from within hers.

"Where are you going then?" She asked, pleadingly and coaxingly, attempting to be the voice of reason in conjunction to Altaïr's dangerous mood even though she felt no such calmness.

"I'm going to find her." He said sharply, turning his back to her.

"Altaïr. She has gone!" Liv shouted, "She has gon…-"

"SHE HAS NOT GONE!" He roared, making Liv nearly cower. "She would not leave like this!" The denial was apparent in his voice now and Liv winced at his tone. This moment somehow brought back all her fragmented memories of her departure. Altaïr had been angry then, but for her and not for some other girl.

"AM I NOT ENOUGH?" Liv shouted back in distress. Altaïr stopped despite himself, closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose in anguish.

"This is not about you Liv." He said, turning around with a softer expression that, considering his fury, only made him look hard and indifferent. His muscles flexed with urgency.

"She does not want you, yet you pursue her! I am here for you. Leave her." Liv begged, walking to him and standing close enough to see every line on his beautiful face illuminated by the moon. He was weary and agitated but he tried to check his voice so as not to frighten her.

"If it is true that Asra does not want me, I want to hear it from she herself." He moved back from her once again and turned. "Until then I must find her and make sure she is safe."

Liv couldn't control herself and her voice was thick with tears when she spoke.

"She left five days ago. Tomorrow will be the sixth. She will be gone far away by now."

"I will still find her." Altaïr replied almost immediately, not the slightest bit of doubt in his mind.

"Please stay with me." She whispered almost inaudibly to which Altaïr did not reply.

Liv waited for his lips to move; to make a sound but he did not say a word. She fell to her knees in anguish, feeling everything slipping away out of her control. Altaïr did not want to leave her on the rooftop but he would if he needed to.

"Liv, please Liv. You must understand that I have to find her. She has become like a part of me. If she is not safe I cannot rest until she is."

"Am I not a part of you? We shared our childhood together!" Liv looked up imploringly, desperately wiping away the tears that blurred her view of him.

"You are but in a different way. I'm sorry; Liv, I do not love you."

Liv lost all composure in a second; she couldn't contain the sobs that rose in her throat, the tears that filled up her eyes in an instant and they suddenly spilled over in a torrent of emotion that had Altaïr turning away, unable to watch.

"Liv, go back to the bureau. I must leave now." Altaïr could not think of a time when he had felt guiltier than he did now but he could not wait for Liv, Asra came first. And with that semblance of resolve, he left.

Liv watched him leave, the blurry luminescent shape in the darkness, and her life fragmented. She sank down in the darkness, her cheek pressed up against the cold, cold tiles of the roof but she stayed deathly still. When she had cried all that she could and the despair and hurt had run out of her like life blood, there was only space left for anger. For hatred. Towards Asra. Towards Altaïr. Towards the Assassins. Every damn person who had caused her pain in her life. She remembered something that Altaïr had said to her before she left; something so insignificant to him that he could never have fathomed the impact it had had on her: _"I cannot be with you; I'm an Assassin._ _There cannot be distractions."_

Those words resounded crystal clear in her head and she cursed Altaïr, cursed the brotherhood. If Altaïr had never been an Assassin she could have been with him.

To anyone who looked upon Liv, she looked calm and composed but in her head, there was a tumultuous battle of seemingly multiple people; many parts of her wanted to do many things at once. She could not hate Altaïr as much as she desired so she turned her contempt on the Brotherhood. The Brotherhood had made the rules that Altaïr conformed so carefully to. They were the reason they could not be together. The Brotherhood and their stupid rules had left her here, alone on the rooftops. They should be abolished. She wanted every trace of the route of her pain annihilated. She felt vicious and vengeful, she wanted them to pay. And so, she stood up, not of sound mind, and formulated a plan that would haunt her for the rest of her cruelly short life.

* * *

_Hey my lovely readers! Thankyou once again for your patience, it means a lot to me to know that even if I am a bit slow, everyone is still there waiting! I just hope you haven't forgotten what all the previous chapters were about. Don't worry though, even I do sometimes._

_Thankyou also for all my wonderful reviews, even if I haven't replied, I do read each and every one of them and they always make my day :D_

_My summer holiday is around the corner so i'll have so much time! (Time that I will try NOT to spend on Call of Duty, The sims 3 and Overlord II. All temptin choices!)_

_P.S I hope we're all excited about Assassin's Creed 2! OH THE FANFIC POTENTIAL. I watch that trailer religiously almost everyday! I hope you all do to._


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 32**

"What information could you, a woman, possibly have that would interest me, the commander of the Templars' of Damascus?" he snorted derisively, the men sniggering around her too.

Liv looked him straight in the eyes, her look so cold and empty that even the commander found her unsettling to look at.

"Speak up woman!" He demanded, rising from his chair to tower over her, else she continue to make him uneasy, "Or be gone from my sight so help me god."

Had she been sound of mind she would have taken a breath and prepared herself, made her statement dramatic and shocking but as it was she had no spirit for anything and the words sounded as if they fell from her lips with no control, simply slipping out. She was a mere vessel, filled with only those words and once they were gone, she would be empty.

"I know where the Assassin's are and I know that their leader is away. If you strike now you will take them unaware. Their losses will be great and you will be able to crush them for long enough that they will not trouble you for many years."

There was a shocked pause before the raucous laughter ensued.

"Unbelievable. To think that you would be willing to come here to tell us such rubbish!" the commander laughed, walking back to his chair, "Go home woman." He sneered.

"You do not believe me it seems."

"You are very perceptive." The commander drawled sardonically, "You are right. We do not believe you. We have sent people to search many, many times and they have never once come back. Robert de Sable attacked with his own private force once but now he and all those men are dead and with them, the location of the Assassin's dies also. What makes you think that we would believe you?" He snorted.

"I was in their service as a maid."

One bushy eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly and he would be foolish to hide the fact that his interest was piqued. He paused for a moment, his clasped hands resting on his lips while he tried to read this woman who had appeared at his door half an hour earlier, demanding to see him and then seemingly throwing him such secret information for no gain. And then the catch struck him.

"Say we believe you. What is in it for you?"

Liv did not even hesitate; her answer was said almost as soon as the words had been spoken.

"Revenge. Nothing more and nothing less."

"Revenge?" This woman was indeed an enigma. "A woman of your age and beauty cannot possibly have cause for such vicious revenge-" he smiled slyly, "-can she?"

"I do not wish to speak of it. Simply know that I am telling the truth and that I want to see them crushed as much as you do."

The woman was not lying. Despite her outlandish claims, he had no doubt that she did truly know their location. He allowed himself a warped grin of delight. This is what he and his men had been waiting for all their lives; the chance to finally crush the Brotherhood and their swarming, incessant and dangerous hive.

"Will you lead us to them?"

"There is no need, for as soon as I tell you the place you will need no guidance. In fact you will hardly believe that they have been hiding so easily under your noses."

"Tell me where!" He said agitatedly, his fingers nearly twitching as if an assassin's neck was between his hands. This was the sort of find that would make him famous! The sort of find that would truly cement his place as the newly appointed commander of the Damascus faction of the Templar's! He ached for the woman to speak.

"I only ask that you allow me to stay here in Damascus and to return here to tell me of what has occurred."

"Damned right you will stay here," He growled menacingly, "You will be here until I return so that if I find that you have lied to me, I can wring your pretty neck at my leisure!"

"There will be no need for that." She replied assuredly, unperturbed by his threats.

"Let us hope not. Now speak."

"They are in Masyaf and their leader is gone. They are weak. They are unprepared for battle. Take them immediately."

"Masyaf?" The commander gaped. "Masyaf!?"

"The fortress on the rock is their home."

"But it is so obvious! So blatantly unconcealed!" He gabbled.

"'Hide in plain sight.'" She quoted, her lips barely moving, her eyes closed "it is their second tenant."

He paused for a breath, apparently undecided and unsure but soon he was barking orders to his second in command:

"Bring together an army of three hundred of my best men!" He shouted, now rushing around Liv, paying her heed no longer. "Have them meet outside the south entrance in ten minutes."

"YES SIR!" he shouted as he launched himself out of the room.

"You." He said, turning to her, "will stay here and if I find nothing more than a town full of plebs and peasants then be assured that you will not leave with your life.

"There will be no need for that." She said again.

"Hmph." He grunted before turning on his heel and striding out of the room, leaving Liv alone in his office. She could hear the shouts and grunts from men preparing to ride into battle; the clink of armour and chainmail being donned; the swish of robes as men swiftly ran around the building; the far-off whinnying of horses as men placed heavy saddles on their back. All of this seemed so distant. She could hear them, but it was as if there were a mask in front, distorting the sound so that it was no more than a muffled hum. She felt nothing, thought nothing. It was as if she were hearing everything from beyond her own body.

The moment she had spoken the words, she had felt relief, for the blight upon her life was to be eliminated. But soon followed the flashes of her life there; her life with Altaïr. The joking and laughing together as they sat on the rooftops in the middle of night after they'd snuck out of the castle. She remembered how Altaïr turned himself in after she had been caught for that. He demanded that they punish him instead of her. In the end, they were both punished but they laughed again as they compared their wounds from the caning they'd received.

Suddenly she felt a wetness on her cheek; a tear that she hadn't even felt coming. The one unexpected tear was followed by another. And another. Until her cheeks were wet and salty and her eyes and heart ached.

What had she done?

Amidst all the chaos around her and despite the captain's threats, she found it easy to slip out into the night. She walked like a spirit; drifting.

When the horses' hooves drummed frantically in the dust, it was the last blow to her fragile spirit and she felt a black hopelessness unlike anything she'd ever felt. That was it. She'd done it. She'd condemned the man she loved to death, along with anyone associated with him. She was a coward; she wasn't even able to face her own problems. She'd made the templar's do it for her.

Her aimless drifting had brought her to a moonlight fountain and as a reflection of her true despair, the first thing she thought when she saw it was how easy it would be to drown herself. She staggered to the base of the fountain and sunk down awkwardly to the ground, retreating into the corner. She had no energy to move and all she could do was cry. Only her weeping intermingled with the trickling water could be heard and it was like that for a long time before the soft sound of footsteps stepping lightly over the cobbles cut across everything else. Liv did not care, nor respond. A sound that before would have made her worry for her safety now made no impression upon her at all. She had no spirit to care. Only when she realised who it was did she take the vaguest notice.

* * *

My fingers twitched in frightened anticipation and the anxiety was almost tangible. This was my one and only chance to escape. For the last so many days of my life, I realised how nonchalant I had been. Only now was I feeling true terror; before, with no idea if I would ever get out, I coped by ignoring but now, there was a glimmer of hope that I knew I could not lose. I was so scared that I would never leave; that I may never seen Altaïr nor Malik again. But I had to believe in Johara. She was the only hope I, and the other men, had.

As if on cue, the distant, clackety rumbling of the food trolley became clearer and clearer and I felt such tightness in my chest that I wasn't sure I could take another breath. I heard Johara's sweet soprano followed by a gruff reply from the men beyond our walls. There was the dull sound of metal being lifted from wood as the meals were handed to the men outside. At least, I thought they must be, but I could not know for sure. I was blind and helpless. Johara's slight frame then darted into the cell and she did not even glance in my direction as she handed two laden plates to the men inside. They ravaged the food like animals in a way that only added to the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

We waited.

For what seemed like an eternity, there were only the disgusting chomping sounds from the guards as they ate greedily, no doubt enjoying the food all the more because we did not have any ourselves. Suddenly, a tumultuous crash from outside made my heart nearly jump free from the bonds of flesh surrounding it. I felt almost breathless from the shock. The crash was the thud of unconscious bodies and I watched Johara wince with bated breath. I felt a twinge of guilt for all the things I was making her do but I tried to be resolute in my decision.

The fat guard accidentally dropped his plate in shock but bent down to pick up the scraps in the way a pig would snaffle through the leaves. The other guard seemed stricken and remained motionless for a few seconds before peering nervously through the slightly open door.

"What the hell?!" He cursed viciously as he saw the slumped bodies of the two guards on the floor. While the one guard was not watching, we saw the fat guard fall to the floor himself, his face falling straight on his plate, crushed up on the floor awkwardly. Three down.

The other guard span around so fast that his eyes almost seem to wobble in their sockets and then his knees suddenly gave way to the all encompassing strength of the drug. For the first time, Johara looked at me. I gave her my most reassuring smile and nodded.

She tentatively searched the pockets of the guards and with every minute it took, I feared that they may wake up. This was such a foolish and incomplete plan that anything could happen. But finally she rose up triumphantly, a small ring with only one key on it clasped in her hands. She walked to my cell as calmly as she could and placed the key in the lock, turning it only once and I watched my cell door creak open.

"Oh thank Allah!" I breathed, feeling such relief I felt like crying. I knelt in front of her and held her face in my hands, drawing her in to hold her. She seemed to slump on me in relief and her already light little body felt ever lighter. I wondered how old she really was.

"Thank you Johara. Thank you so much." I breathed. I stood up and took her hand to steady her and together we unlocked every single door in the prison. Without even being asked, Ra'if and the other man grabbed each unconscious guard and dragged them legs first into their own cell, locking it on the way out.

Nobody spoke. As calmly as an evening breeze, we all drifted out into the balmy air and I turned my head to save the men the embarrassment of being seen crying. I still clasped Johara's little hand in mine, not wanting to let her go. Wiping a tear from his eye, Ra'if walked up to me and enveloped me in a strong hug.

"I think we can safely say you're the best woman we ever met!" He joked.

"No," I disagreed, "Johara is." I said, looking down to my right where she looked so infinitely small, but puffed with pride.

"You're righ'" Ra'if corrected himself. He kneeled on the ground and took her little hand, pressing it to his scraggly beard covered lips.

"Thank you my little lady." He said humbly, "We owe everythin' to you."

She nodded her little head in recognition of his thanks and could only smile embarrassedly as every man after Ra'if did the same.

"This is it." Ra'if said. "We'll be goin' now."

"Will you be okay?" I asked, almost not wanting them to leave.

"Yes." He winked, "It's been a pleasure meeting you both." And with that, they all nodded and began to walk. Where they walked was not important; at least they were free.

"I must go." Johara said to me after a few moments of complete silence.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" I said softly. "Do you have anyone you can go to?"

"Yes, I can go to them now; I have money." She smiled.

"Please be careful." I begged, clutching both her hands in mine. "Please."

"I will." She said assuredly, "I can live a better life now." She sounded far more adult than she looked. I felt like the child.

"I believe you." I said, _'I have to believe you.'_ I thought.

"Thank you miss." She said, kissing me on the cheek.

"No, Johara, thank you. And my name is Asra."

"Goodbye Asra." She said, nodding her head to me. And then she was gone.

I was left alone feeling strangely calm and serene. I was free and I suddenly felt no rush to be anywhere at all. I chose a road in front of me and began to walk down it, only dimly aware that I had no idea where I was going. But that didn't bother me, as walking the streets and feeling the dust between my toes was comfort enough. I moved with only the quiet padding of my feet for company, heading towards the distant sounds of habitation. Save for a few lamps, the moon was my only light but it was so full this evening that it was as if the sun itself was there also.

The only sound that interrupted my near silent walk was the sudden drum of horses' hooves and because I could hear it despite the distance, there must have been many, many horses. It seems I was not the only one who noticed, as the sudden sound had caused a flurry of activity at windows; lights flickered on as candles were lit and sleepy people peered out of high windows and rooftops to work out what all the commotion was about. It was certainly unusual to hear practically a whole army suddenly setting off so late at night. Soon enough though, the distinctive sound faded away and lights were once again extinguished. The horses had thundered into the distance and I continued walking with no other interruptions.

What must have been half an hour or more passed before I came upon somewhere that I vaguely recognised. The streets here were wide and spacious when the merchant stalls were empty and the people gone, and having never been in a street this late before, I found it a refreshing experience and I was not in the least bit unnerved by the emptiness. It wasn't long however before the weight of my predicament returned and I was forced to face reality. Altaïr would have already returned to find me gone. What had Livanya told him? I realised how little hope we had of finding each other in a city so large with no clue of where to begin. Livanya may have told him that I was no longer even in Damascus; Altaïr may be half way across the country in search. And I had no doubt that he _would _be looking for me; he had promised as much.

I continued walking along the wide streets, only ever coming across a few men suspiciously scurrying around or crashing through the streets drunk, tripping over cobbles and slurring colourful curses. I bade them no heed as I walked on with purpose but no direction.

As I was about to take one road, I was instead drawn towards another upon hearing the gentle falling of water. I could tell that it was a fountain and fountains in cities usually meant large courtyards or squares and I hoped that I may recognise it, so I walked onwards, drawn towards the almost hypnotic sound. Like I had thought, the road then opened out onto a huge square, a beautiful fountain directly in the middle surrounded by palm trees that swayed gently in the breeze and rustled as the wind coaxed them to move. Benches were wrapped around the base of the fountain and I could imagine what it would look like in the prime of the day when it was filled with merchants and men and women and exotic smells. However now, it was empty with everything steeped in an unusually bright moon glow; so bright that there were even shadows being cast.

At least, I thought I had been alone but suddenly, as I walked forwards, I noticed with a start, the silhouetted form of a kneeling, crumpled person at the base of the fountain. Eerily, they made no sound or movement and I had never felt such a foreboding or unnerving feeling before. I wanted to approach them and make sure they were all right but I could hardly muster the courage. The person was so still that they almost looked dead. Only when I managed to creep a little closer did I notice the tiny, nearly imperceptible breaths they took. The person was slight and delicate, most likely a woman and they way they were crouched in the recess of the fountain base made it look as if they had been crying.

Only once had I ever truly considered the existence of fate; that our decisions were not made by us but by a higher power. And this was that time.

The person turned their mournful face towards me and my stomach lurched to the point of sickness when I recognised her to be Livanya.

It was as if the very Gods themselves had contrived this moment to be. I almost felt as if they were laughing as they watched.

I thought all I would feel was uncontrollable anger and it was true, I did, but it was instantly quelled when I saw the depth of the sorrow in her eyes. I did not know the reason for her pain but looking upon her sick, sallow, grief-wrought face, I could not muster any anger.

It was like the time I had first met her; vulnerable, bewildered, frightened and distraught. She was all that and more now.

This had all happened in a second and now that she had recognised me also, she remained where she was, paralyzed in some unknown emotion; perhaps it could be fear or perhaps she had no spirit to move.

I approached her cautiously, like a wounded animal that I wanted to help but that I knew would flee and injure itself further if I frightened it.

"Livanya?" I called softly, even though I had no doubt it was her.

She didn't answer but I took it as a sign of compliance and approached her faster, crouching to my knees next to her.

"Livanya what is wrong? What's happened?"

She didn't look at me and for a while I did not think she was going to answer but just when I was about to try and coax her further, a croaky, desperate murmur escaped her lips.

"I have done something terrible." She whispered, her voice told me she was in shock, as if she could not believe she was telling me this. Either that or she herself was so shocked by what she had done.

"What? What have you done?" I asked gently.

I sounded a lot calmer than I felt. For a woman like Livanya - who nearly a week ago had cold heartedly and mercilessly had me locked up for a crime I did not commit - to be crouched, devoid of any energy or spirit, in the corner of a fountain in the dead of the night was ominously unnerving and I felt real fear prick at me.

"I have condemned many men to their death. Maybe even the only man I have ever loved." She murmured listlessly.

As if they first part had not already chilled my blood to ice, the second only served to knock everything out of me. I felt breathless with panic. The only man she had ever loved was Altaïr. Altaïr was in danger.

"What?" I cried, struggling to keep my voice from cracking, "What have you done?"

In the same monotonous, emotionless tone she said, "I have sent the Templar's to Masyaf - the Assassin's stronghold."

With sickening clarity, the reason for the sound of the horses' hooves fell into place. It was an army of Templar's leaving to tear the assassin's apart. Maybe Altaïr was also with them by now. I felt panic rising in my throat and struggled to quell it for long enough to get more information.

"How long ago was this?" I cried.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps an hour, perhaps less."

"Livanya why? Why?" I whispered hoarsely, my body feeling limp and useless, panic now fuelling my every move.

She would not respond.

"Please Livanya; please tell me how to get to the bureau. I need to warn someone!" I stood up so fast I felt my head spin.

"Please tell me!" I pleaded.

She seemed to consider it for a moment and then whispered hoarsely: "Ahead, go ahead. Follow the road until it ends and then turn right. Then left and then you will see it."

I wanted to say something to her but I could not bring myself to say thank you. Strangely, I didn't even want to leave her.

"Livanya… I -…" I began, unsure of how I would finish. But I did not have to as Livanya turned to me and with as much strength and fire as she could muster, whispered forcefully: "GO."

I looked at her, almost alarmed at how much I wanted to help her despite all she had done. I was poised to run into the night, to run for help but I looked at her and felt that I could not go. She stared at me with those dead eyes - a sight I will never forget.

"JUST GO." She yelled, her last ounce of strength put into those words.

And I ran.

I ran as fast as I could; until the burning sensation in my lungs was so great I could barely bear to take another breath but despite my best efforts, I knew I could not outrun the horses.

* * *

_You are all so understanding but I really do suck, even by my own standards! I'M SO SLACK. _

_I'm so sorry guys! I've just been so damned frickin' busy! I don't know what to do with myself, I spend more time at school than I do at home and everything is hectic with a captial H! I love writing, but I've got to the point where even writing feels like work sometimes! But don't panic, I've written a chapter or so in advance (well, it's kind of done) and I'll never give up on this story! _

_I need someone else to tell me of their chemistry related woes because I PHAILED. I need perfect chemistry-ness for my chosen university course (Veterinary Medicine) but I suck! I properly suck! Because being a vet is so important to me, I should be fantastic at it and do obscene amounts of extra work but I get so much other work that I just can't bring myself to do it! (Short of encroaching upon the time needed for SLEEP. Sadly, my teacher has even said that before..."Just use your sleeping time, you can catch up in the holidays." ¬_¬ (not amused in the slightest!)) Anyhoo, enough with the drabble, hope you're all well and lovely as usual :) On another note....HOW PSYCHED ARE YOU FOR ASSASSIN'S CREED II?! I AM SO PSYCHED. Cannot wait ;)_

_Review like you always do. I love you guys._

_- Minnie_


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 33**

I didn't look back again as I tore off in the direction she had sent me, hoping with every fibre of my being that I could warn someone in time to save people. The darkness and silence that had until a moment ago been so beautiful, had now taken on an oppressive, unnerving tone. My feet pounded against the cobbles, in time with my furious heartbeat. As the featureless wall of the bureau came into view I whispered a small thanks to Liv that she would never hear. The adrenaline coursing through my body sent me scrabbling up the trellis that I knew would take me to the roof entrance of the bureau. I dropped down awkwardly, panic making me let go before I had even prepared to land and I felt and uncomfortable twinge in my leg as I landed near the fountain.

"Nasih!" I practically screamed, "Nasih, wake up!"

But as it was, he had not been sleeping and he launched out of the doorway at the same time I reached it, brandishing a small dagger.

"Who goes there?!" He shouted but the moment his eyes alighted upon my face his jaw fell slack.

"You?!" He accused. "Where the hell have you been?" His expression then turned thunderous. "Altaïr is being driven mad! Do you know what you have done to him?!" He shouted, marching towards me and making me step back to compensate.

"Nasih, Nasih please, there is no time. The Assassin's are in great danger!" I pleaded, not wanting to hear of Altaïr's suffering at this time.

"What?" he snapped, stopping mid step.

"Livanya, she has sold your location out to the Templar's. Even as we speak they are riding to your stronghold! We need to warn them!"

He stared at me as if I had said the filthiest curse. His face was slack and ashen, as if his muscles had exhausted themselves. He stared at me for a moment, searching my face and then raced off without a word back into the depths of the bureau.

"What are you doing?!" I cried, following after him.

"I am warning my brothers." He yelled murderously, though his anger was not directed at me.

We entered another room and all around me I realised were cages of pigeons, cooing softly. In mere moments, Nasih had taken a beautiful, pure white pigeon out of its cage and attached a hastily scrawled, ink blotted note to its small foot. I followed him in hurried silence again as he marched back out to the entrance and climbed the fountain, bird in hand, leaving me no choice but to attempt to scramble up behind him. In an act of kindness that I greatly needed at this moment, he leant out a hand and hauled me up. No words were shared as he kissed the bird lightly on its soft head and then threw it up in the air. All in one fluid motion the bird was released and instantly took off in the direction of its home. Only then did I risk speaking.

"Nasih, do you know where Altaïr is?"

"I do not." He said brusquely. "But I have left a message at the bureau; if he returns there he will know to ride to Masyaf."

That at least was good and I felt hopeful that I would see him soon; he had to return to the bureau at some point, however my nerves were still raw. Nasih then broke into an unaccommodating run and I dutifully followed, the pounding of blood in my head keeping me from focusing on anything else.

Just two minutes later, we reached the gates and I felt almost sick from the exertion of running so fast but Nasih did not waste time as he entered the stables just outside the walls, having already dealt with the two guards who patrolled the entrance. He'd been so quiet in knocking them out and hiding them that I didn't even notice them until I accidently trod on one of their hands as it stuck out of a pile of hay that he'd thrown on top of them. I tucked it back into the hay before following him inside.

"Take yours." He grunted. I ran to Maysaa and haphazardly tacked her up, buckles evading my shaky touch. He had mounted his horse in seconds and was out the door before I'd even finished putting the bridle on. I climbed on her back and urged her out the door but she could no doubt sense my fear as she was jumpy and difficult to handle.

"Please Maysaa!" I cried, desperate to follow Nasih. "Just go!"

She seemed to take heed of my desperation and set off with a final indignant snort before I caught up with Nasih and we began to pound thunderously along the long, wide dirt road.

* * *

Altaïr walked to the bureau in a calculated way; controlling his steps as a way to try and control himself. For once, he had used roads not rooftops and upon reaching the blank, sandstone face of the bureau, he sent a fist flying into its solid form. He heard the crunch of bone meeting rock; felt the instant fiery throbbing in his fist and grimaced. But the pain felt like a release, so great now was his frustration; he could not find her. But he knew she had not run away.

He was a master at reading other people. Even the most guarded could not shy away from his penetrating eyes and mind. Asra was easy to read, anyone could see from the way she acted that she would have no reason to run away. Everything from the last chaste kiss she had given him before he left her nearly a week ago, to the way she would unconsciously reach for him in her sleep gave him no reason to believe that she would leave. Something had happened to her and that possibility was infinitely worse than her having gone of her own accord.

It had been many hours since he'd first returned to the bureau only to hear of her disappearance and he cursed himself for not questioning Liv further. He'd returned to the bureau to find her again; he needed answers and for every minute that Asra was gone, she became less safe and Altaïr became more tense and agitated.

He effortlessly pulled himself up to the roof and with alarm, he saw that the gate had been drawn across the entrance to the bureau. This never usually happened. There was no light inside save for the front where the moonlight could reach. Beyond that there was only blackness and Altaïr could not sense anyone within. The bureau was only ever closed in an emergency and it was never usually left empty. Nasih had gone, despite knowing that desertion of his post was severely punished. He crouched down and tried to peer further in and as he came lower to the ground, he noticed a piece of paper tied to the gate. It was smudged and ink blotted as he unravelled it and he knew from the way that the ink left traces on his finger that it could not have been written too long ago.

'_Ride homewards with all your might. Our Brothers are in mortal danger.'_

Altaïr's expression did not change as he read but thousands of things were running through his head as he launched off the roof and began to sprint through the streets at breakneck speed. He ran so fast that even he felt a little breathless as he reached the eastern gate. This was not the direction of Masyaf but it was beyond here that he'd left Khalil. The eastern gate was the one most weakly guarded and as he had returned from his mission, keeping a low profile had been in his best interests. Altaïr gave a low click and Khalil turned his refined head towards him. Altaïr took his reigns and then stood stock still and silent, feeling almost physically unable to move. By leaving now, he was making his chances of finding her even slimmer. His fist gripped the reigns so tightly that it shook. The silence surrounding him was suddenly broken again by the sound of crunching bone. This time, parts of the wall crumbled from beneath his shaking fist. We drew it away and swore violently, then, with a resolve he did not whole heartedly believe in, he climbed into the saddle.

Masyaf was normally a day's journey away yet he was going to make sure it was done in a few hours, though exactly how many, he could not say at this point. But Khalil sensed the urgency in Altaïr's tense grip on the reigns and his hooves seemed to race ever faster over the barren, dust plains.

His physical body left the city but his heart was still in there. Somewhere.

* * *

Time seemed to race onwards, reminding us always that every moment that passed put hundreds of people in danger. But at the same time, it seemed infinitely slow and as we rode, it was as if no time had passed at all. The landscape seemed never to change and the intense beat of the horses' hooves on the solid earth was relentless. There was nothing that Nasih and I could say to each other. I only concentrated on the horses. Even the two thoroughbred Arabian horses, built for speed and stamina, were flagging after the hours we had been riding for. I could feel the odd falter in her step and my heart nearly stopped every time she did. Nasih's horse was covered in white, foamy sweat but the intensity of Nasih's determination would not allow him to stop.

"Nasih!" I yelled over the thunderous hooves. He turned to me blankly, ghostly shadows dancing on his face. "The horses will die!" Perhaps I should not have been worrying about them too but I could not help it.

"Then they will die honourably!" He shouted back callously. My lips were firmly pressed shut; I suppose that was all I could expect from an Assassin. Although the Assassin's I had come into contact with had so far been kind, they were obviously not Assassin's for their kindness. They were ruthless. And these horses would be like brave soldiers sacrificing their lives for the good of others. I did not like it at all but I didn't say another word. I focused all my power on gripping on to the rippling, speeding horse; that alone required concentration that could not be wasted on words.

* * *

Malik could not sleep. He instead had walked to the Grand Master's - Altaïr's - desk and sat upon it, gazing at the moon through the huge, glass-less window. It was phenomenally bright this evening; no other light was necessary to see by. It was very late now - three, maybe four o' clock in the morning, he couldn't tell exactly but the moon showed no signs of disappearing anytime soon. He found himself musing on how something so gloriously bright could simply dissolve into the sky so easily. It was just as he was about to leave to finally try to get some rest that he saw a shape suddenly dart through the window. He would not have noticed it, had the very thing itself not been so bright.

It was a pure white pigeon, one that he realised with horror, he had actually never seen before, only heard about. The pigeon had landed on the back of the chair and waited there patiently, cocking its head from side to side. Malik felt his heart falter in his chest and rushed to the bird. This bird was one of the Three Winds, so called because their swiftness was unmatched by any other pigeons in their care.

One of each of the Three Winds resided in the three main cities in which the Assassin's carried out their business - Almase for Damascus, El Marees for Jerusalem and Rabbani from Acre. This pigeon, Almase, despite its beauty and speed was also a terrible omen. An Assassin only resorted to using one of the Three Winds in the most grave of situations and hence, he had never seen this bird. He had of course been in charge of his own bird of this kind - El Marees in Jerusalem - but he had never had reason to use it. He fumbled with the note on its leg and blanched as he read its words.

'_My brothers, you are under attack. As you read, the Templar's charge towards our home and their numbers are greater than our own. Prepare for attack.'_

"Dear Allah…" He breathed, barely believing what he read. He grabbed Almase and slammed her into the nearest cage before he rushed outside into the empty courtyard and training ring. There resided the emergency bell, one that hadn't been rung since Robert De Sable attempted to attack. But then, the Assassin's had outnumbered Robert's men so greatly that it was laughable. The emergency bell had been rung lazily; every assassin knew the situation and it was rung more as an arrogant joke than anything significant. But now he rung it with all his might and both the Assassin's and villagers who heard it knew that there was grave danger.

Assassin's poured into the training ring in an instant, their deep voices murmuring to each other in confusion as they ran.

"Malik!" One called, "What is going on?"

"We are under attack from the Templars! I do not know when they will arrive, it could be now or it could be in an hour but they are coming and we must fight!"

An unnatural silence followed and even some of the strongest, most experienced Assassin's blanched. No-one dared to speak. The announcement knocked them off their feet. A few latecomers - still dragging on their boots as they ran to the ring - started to speak but the atmosphere stole their voices away and they were instantly quietened.

"What must we do?" One brave soul asked, his voice raspy and still thick with disbelief.

"Novices will go to the village now and evacuate as many citizens as possible. Take as many as you can and go east. Go anywhere. Just go together and protect Masyaf's people." Malik did not need to speak loudly, no-one was talking.

A group of young men, their fear masked by training and discipline, broke away from the group and began to run towards the village.

"My brothers." Malik roused, "Fight to protect your brothers and fight to protect yourselves! We will not let Templar scum take us!"

There were grunts of agreement from all around and some men ran to collect their weapons, while others ran to barricade the gates of Masyaf. Archers were sent to every vantage point Malik could think of, all of them as highly strung as their bows. Men rushed everywhere and you could sense the small cracks in their composure; Malik had never felt an atmosphere like it. He felt overwhelmed and he wished for a moment that Altaïr could be here to help. He didn't feel like the true leader; he felt out of his depth…

"Shut up." He said to himself angrily under his breath. Now was not the time to falter.

While men were still in the throes of preparation and the trail of panicked citizens had only just been lined up to leave, the distant sound of hundreds of horses galloping reached the ears of Masyaf. There could not have been one person there whose blood did not run cold at the sound.

One Assassin voiced what every other was thinking: "I've never heard so many…"

Some men nodded gravely, others simply remained silent.

* * *

Where I had no doubt that I looked terrified, Nasih was nothing discernable. His face was set into a hard mask of blankness.

"Can you fight?" He shouted over the incredible din of hooves.

"I...no not really. Altaïr taught me how to wield a blade but I cannot fight Templars." I cried, desperately worried that he would leave me to do so.

"You will fight with me, I will not leave you." Nasih replied.

"Thank you." I whispered under my breath, relieved.

"You're welcome."

"How the hell could you hear that!?" I shouted again, "What is it with Assassins!" I grumbled.

Nasih laughed to himself and it felt like a jolt back into reality. This was not a humorous situation but I felt some of the tension dissolve a little.

I stroked Maysaa desperately as if I were trying to infuse her with some of my energy. I was desperately scared that she would crumble the moment she slowed down.

We came over the brow of a rather steep hill and beyond, illuminated like an ethereal mirage, rose a grand fortress upon a craggy hill. It seemed to be formed from the very earth itself. Nasih seemed so utterly focused upon this fortress that I didn't even need to ask whether this was our destination.

Around the walls glowed fiery beacons that even from this distance seemed to reflect alarmingly in Nasih's eyes. He was staring so intensely that could barely draw my eyes from his face. We did not speak.

* * *

The roars of bloodthirsty men were deafening as a barrage of brutally strong blows thumped at the gates of Masyaf. The Templars had arrived faster than anyone could have expected and now, they were hacking and ramming the now flimsy looking wooden gates. Panic raced through the air like a putrid miasma, sending all who breathed it into a frenzy. Villagers ran, children in one arm and worldly goods in another while the Brotherhood did all it could to protect them.

Archers were firing arrows from every direction but the sea of Templars could not be stopped so easily. Shields were raised over head as the wooden gates began to fall, splintering and shattering. The cracks were the smallest of noises but they seemed to resonate through the village as loudly as if it had been an entire cliff face that had crumbled. The cumulative force of the Templars sent the gate down in seconds. And a torrent of men on horseback came rushing in, crushing men underfoot. The chaos could not be stopped.

* * *

When we arrived in Masyaf, hours and hours since we had left Damascus, I was so unprepared for what I would witness that I was left reeling, sick to my stomach. Men and women lay dead on the floor with hoof prints upon their naked bodies, their clothes torn to shreds. Houses burned all around us and I could hear the whimpers of dying people. The roars and yells and clashes of steel upon steel rang out from further ahead, up near the fortress. I could see the pain in Nasih's eyes but he didn't say anything, only grabbed my hand and dragged me up the hill towards the fortress.

Seeing dead people is one thing, seeing people die is entirely another, and I had never seen it on such a sickeningly enormous scale….

* * *

_Sorry that this is late guys, but I actually have a decent excuse this time, one that I feel you can all relate to. And that is of course that Assassin's Creed II came out (only came out on the 20th for me!) I love it so much, it's incredibly good, and I loved AC I but this really outshines it :D_

_I love Ezio._

_'nuff said._

_(But there is still a special place in my heart for Altair)_


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 34**

I looked but I refused to see. I couldn't bear to see. There was such destruction everywhere but I couldn't imagine anyone going out of their way to wreak such havoc. However, the Templars had done so. They had done so without any reservations. The cries from further ahead struck such fear in me that I almost wished I could curl up in a tiny recess and wait until everything had stopped. But I didn't have that option. Nasih began to sprint up the hill towards the fortress and I could do nothing but follow. I was scared to be alone.

On the path lay the bodies of men and horses in such quantities that it seemed as though it was simply toys scattered upon a child's floor. But children's toys did not bleed. Blood had seeped into the ground and made it soft. It wasn't so bad until I saw the body of a small child hunched in the corner of a destroyed and burning building. I felt such sorrow that I had to look away; it was too painful to look at. Nasih kept running, taking a second shorter sword from his belt and handing it to me. I took it but it felt unnatural in my hand.

The shouts became infinitely louder and as we turned the corner, we were presented with an all out war. Assassin's lay together with Templars, united in death while the living clashed around them. Steel on steel reverberated all around me; it was a brutal, ugly sound. From what I could see, the courtyard entrance to the fortress had been forced open and men fought in and all around. Nasih shouted for me to stay close by as he began to tear through the centre of the fray. He ran full speed at a templar who was in his path, spearing him straight through the stomach. Or at least that's what it looked like he was going to do before I closed my eyes.

He grabbed my left hand and pulled me into the courtyard where men were layering every inch of the floor and up the double flight of stairs that led to what appeared the main entrance of the fortress. One alarming thing I had noticed was that for every assassin I saw, there seemed to be at least two Templars fighting them. I gasped as I watched an assassin being simultaneously slashed by three Templars and falling to the floor gasping. In a moment he was dead. I gripped onto Nasih's hand tightly and in response, he held my hand a little tighter too. With me directly behind him he brutally cleared a path around, receiving small nods of acknowledgement from other grim faced, blood-stained assassins who then ran behind us and began to fight anew, helping comrades or attacking the never-ending waves of Templars into this bottle neck. I held my sword like Altaïr had taught me but it was a purely a gesture of show; I didn't think I'd be able to truly use it. I was wrong however.

Nasih suddenly let go of my hand to grapple with his sword as a templar smashed his own down. Nasih strained to stop the Templars sword coming down onto his shoulder and severing his arm. I pressed myself into the wall behind the templar and was horrified to see that Nasih was struggling. My body took over and I thrust my small sword straight into the Templars leg. He screamed and fell instantly to his knees where Nasih finished him off. I winced at the sight but could not afford to close my eyes.

He gave a small nod in thanks but didn't take my hand again, thinking I would be more useful with both hands free. I wish he had held onto it again though, I felt even more exposed without his contact. He kept me close behind him though and I was grateful for his support.

"Malik." Nasih suddenly said and my head whipped around in shock at the name.

I turned to see my cousin stab a man through the shoulder before looking up in surprise.

"Malik…" I breathed silently, feeling such happiness well up in my chest at the sight of my cousin. There were no Templars between me and him so I ran at full pelt in to his chest, crying his name.

"Asra?!" He gaped in disbelief, wrapping his arm around my shoulders as I buried my face into his shoulder.

"You're meant to be in Berothai." He reprimanded questioningly.

"It's a long story." I replied softly, not wanting to go into details when I had not seen him for so long.

"Why is Altaïr not with you?" He asked smoothly, not concealing his displeasure at realising I had been left on my own. Altaïr was meant to be escorting me after all.

"It's not his fault." I said quickly, not wanting Altaïr to be blamed for anything; it had all been entirely out of his control.

Nasih's voice suddenly piped up from behind us. "I hate to break up this moment but we have not yet won."

"You're right." Malik agreed, letting go of me, "You can tell me all this later."

I nodded and smiled.

"I've missed you." I whispered.

"And I, you." He replied.

The courtyard was littered with templar bodies, signalling finally that this place at least was cleared. Nasih, Malik and I, along with a group of weary looking Assassins, ran out into the village where there was no sign of this battle stopping. Nasih and Malik had pained looks as they gazed upon the bodies of fallen comrades and their distress was tangible.

A group of Templars suddenly ran at us at full speed, screaming curses and abuse towards the Assassins. In the blink of the eye, Nasih had removed a throwing knife and sent it flying with such precision that one templar crumbled immediately. Another launched at Malik but he brought his sword up and parried the blow, then brought his sword immediately down and under, piercing the man's broad chest. Blood spurted freely and the Templar's eyes glazed over as he fell. I was blocked from danger by the bodies of the two men but I saw everything. Nasih and Malik were good but by the time this group had been felled, they were exhausted and there were many more Templars still to get rid of. I felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness as I surveyed the scene before me.

Suddenly from almost nowhere, a templar ran at me from the right, sword brandished and murder in his eyes. I cried out in shock, alerting Nasih and Malik but neither they nor I were fast enough to stop the blade that came careering into my leg. I'd jumped back a moment before so it only grazed past my skin but reached me nevertheless. Malik roared and leapt to my aid, slashing the templar straight across the neck, killing him instantly. I looked down again and saw the fabric of my shalwars had been sliced through and the blood flowed down my leg but realised that I felt no pain.

"I'm fine." I said quickly and resolutely such that Malik did not ask, just nodded bleakly.

I held my sword in front of me and we continued further into the village. I could walk freely on my leg for now and I thought that anger must be masking the pain. I felt such anger towards these Templars but not for attacking the assassin's. That was their objective after all and the assassin's were able to defend themselves. No, it was not for attacking them but for attacking these villagers who I saw lying mangled before me. There were children among them too. Did not the Templars have children of their own? All the villagers here were normal men and women with no means of defence. There was no honour in killing defenceless, terrified people. Yes, that was where my strength was coming from: anger and disgust. Anger also has a strange way of replacing fear. I felt no fear now.

I had been looking across the sea of unceasing violence when right in front of me I saw something that sent such relief through me that I closed my eyes for a moment and sighed.

"Altaïr." I said under my breath, but of course, the two men heard and simultaneously shouted, "Where?"

I pointed in front of me where Altaïr had just spun around, pulling another assassin out the way of a blade and sending a fist flying into the head of the templar who had attempted to stab him. The templar was knocked out cold and fell backwards, exposing another templar immediately behind him who swung a fist straight towards Altaïr's face. Altaïr grabbed the man's fist mid-punch and twisted, sending the man swinging to the left, falling on the body of the previously felled templar. I winced as Altaïr took his sword and stabbed it through both mens' stomachs. They gurgled and groaned but fell silent a moment after. I watched him look behind and check that his brothers were coping before he ran in our direction.

"Altaïr!" I cried out, slipping in between Nasih and Malik to reach him. He looked up suddenly as he heard his name called and he seemed to falter when he saw me. I ran towards him but at the last moment, the pain in my leg suddenly flourished, like a fire burning again from dying embers. I faltered and nearly fell but Altaïr had closed the gap between us and rushed to stop me from falling, grabbing my waist as my leg gave up completely.

With his face but inches from mine I could see the anger and confusion and exhaustion in his eyes.

"Why are you here and where have you been?" He asked, pained and angry in the same breath.

"Not now. I'll explain later. But know that I never ran away from you. I would never, ever do that." I promised vehemently, placing my arms around his neck and gaining comfort from his proximity.

"I know." He breathed, kissing my cheek. There were elements of triumph and relief in those small words and I felt the same. He supported me as we hobbled back to where Malik and Nasih were standing. Malik was staring aghast and I could do nothing but look sheepish.

"I am sorry brother. I have disrespected you." Altaïr said upon reaching Malik. I refused to catch Malik's gaze.

Malik snorted and for a moment I thought he was really going to oppose it but he then broke into a smile.

"I was so naïve!" He said boisterously, "I mean, honestly, what was I thinking? Sending you two out together! I should have seen it coming!"

I was about to kiss him on the cheek when an ominously faint sound reached my ears. It was like a faint whistling or a breeze floating through the branches of a tree, yet sharper. Suddenly, an odd cloud appeared in the sky, glinting in the moonlight and with an odd acceptance of the truth, I noticed they were arrows. Hundreds and hundreds of arrows.

Altaïr grabbed me and crushed me into his chest so hard that I could barely breathe. "GET DOWN!" He roared at the top of his lungs. He dropped to his knees with me clasped under his body, hidden by his broad frame. The arrows seemed to become louder as they descended upon us and the sound suddenly changed as they embedded themselves deep into mud and flesh. I heard Altaïr grunt and felt his muscles tense around me.

"Altaïr!" I gasped.

"It's my shoulder. It's okay." He forced through gritted teeth. I couldn't see his face but I could feel the pressure as his muscles involuntarily clenched tighter at the pain. Cries rang out as men on both sides went down. How could the Templars be so stupid? To rain arrows down upon their own men? It must be desperation, I thought to myself.

There was a strange silence as the arrows ended; the fighting had almost ceased completely while people dived to escape them. Altaïr's grip relaxed on me slightly.

"Are you okay?" I cried desperately, seeing with horror the shafts of an arrow protruding from his left shoulder.

"It is nothing." He said quickly seeing my shock.

There was suddenly the most horrific throaty groan from behind us and I snapped my head around so fast that I hurt myself. Malik lay on his back on the ground, an arrow spearing him in the centre of his stomach.

"MALIK!" I screamed, tearing myself away from Altaïr and ignoring the searing pain in my leg as I jumped up to reach him.

"MALIK!" I cried again, but he said nothing. I threw myself at his side and clasped his hand in mine.

"Malik, speak to me!" I pleaded but he could do nothing but groan agonisingly. When he tried to speak, his breaths came out so laboured and heavy that it felt as though the arrow had pierced me also.

"Oh god…" I whispered. Altaïr crouched next to me as silent as ever and I found myself for a moment resenting his composure.

Nasih and Altaïr looked at each other, exchanging silent words. Nasih looked down and held his head in his hands. Altaïr's face was a mask.

"Asra." Altaïr said softly and carefully, "There is nothing we can do."

"No." I said forcedly. I gripped Malik's hand ever tighter but the colour was draining from his skin as fast as the life was draining from his eyes.

"No Malik please." I begged but he couldn't even register my words any longer.

"Malik…" I cried desperately.

"Asra." Altaïr said again soothingly. "I am sorry." Even to my ears, his pain was obvious. But I didn't care what anyone else felt at that moment. There was only me and Malik. And it was fast becoming me alone.

Thankfully, Altaïr made no attempt to move me. I would have fought him if he had. He simply walked a few feet back and crouched down. I forgot his presence immediately.

"Malik…" I wept softly. He seemed to make an effort to smile but he died there and then, right in the middle of it and it became a grimace. I touched my trembling fingertips to his warm eyelids and pulled them gently down. His deathly gaze was too harrowing to look upon. Sorrow ebbed through me like waves on the shore, softly reaching every part of me until I felt heavy and saturated. I looked upwards to stop the tears pooling in my eyes. I was aware of Altaïr's presence behind me but I didn't want him any closer. I felt instantly fragile, the anger having drained away and replaced with a hollow feeling, and knew that if there was someone there for me, I would break down and I didn't want that. I still had Malik's limp, heavy hand in my own and I didn't want to let go. I looked at the arrow standing solitary and proud in his stomach and felt such a sudden, overwhelming feeling of disgust towards it for marring Malik that I pulled it out and was met with the last of the blood that seeped out from the wound, trickling to join the torrent that had come before, covering me and the ground. I felt mildly ill at the sight but found myself wishing that it would gush out. At least that would indicate he was alive.

But he was dead.

"Asra…" Altaïr said, his voice broken. I didn't answer him because I knew my voice wouldn't be there. His voice shattered my cocoon and I could hear every gruesome sound once again. I wanted to retreat once more. I wanted to stay with Malik in my bubble of ignorance.

He spoke my name once again and it made me fully and painfully aware of everything. Instantly, the body in front of me ceased to be Malik. It seemed to morph in front of my eyes into just another sickly coloured, frigid corpse. I tried to make it Malik once more but he was gone. My cousin had gone and no imagining was able to bring him back.

There must have been a tangible change in me or a visible one in my face, for Altaïr seemed suddenly aware of the effect him speaking had had on me and he didn't speak again. I prised my hand from the corpse's grip but could move no further. I didn't want to look at it but I could no sooner take my eyes of it than I could will the sun to return at this very moment. I willed myself to believe it was Malik but I couldn't.

I stood shakily up and Altaïr was immediately behind me, wary and waiting as a support that I did not ask for but could not openly refuse; I had neither the words nor the energy. I didn't want to be with anyone but I was scared to be alone. I could not seem to think straight any longer…

Altaïr brushed his fingertips against my own as lightly and softly as a breeze but it unleashed my grief in such a way that it was as if he had slapped me around the face.

It would have been so easy to turn to Altaïr and sob; to let him take my grief upon himself but as I turned to him, something in his eyes struck me so hard that I faltered where I stood. There was such pain and anguish in his eyes; he looked on the verge of tears. He was not looking at me, his eyes were on Malik and his fists were balled up at his sides, nearly shaking.

I felt selfish as I looked upon him; I was not the only one who needed comfort. I straightened up and rubbed the tears from my eyes as I leant forward and ever so lightly took his hands in my own and touched my lips to their rough, bloodied surface.

"We do not have time now…" I murmured tearfully, looking up at him as I spoke, letting him see that I knew what he was feeling. I sounded stronger than I felt; ideally, I would have curled into a ball, protected from the outside world and allowed the sorrow to overcome me for a few hours. But we had no such option here; there was still a war around us and Malik was only one of several hundred casualties. There was no time to lose yourself here.

"I know." He murmured monotonously, his voice giving nothing away.

I saw Nasih a few feet away from me, straightening up and bringing his sword to his side, ready to fight again. I picked up my own sword from beside Malik and then returned to Altaïr's side. All traces of grief were wiped from his hardened face; there was only rage and grim determination. He would not hold back on anyone.

He turned to look at me, his expression becoming torn.

"I do not want you out there." He said his voice heavy and pained. He looked at the battle before him again, his anguish increasing every time his eyes fell upon the scene. "But I cannot leave you here."

The sword's presence in my hand was an unwelcome and unnatural one and I knew that Altaïr felt the unfamiliarity I had with this weapon.

"I cannot leave my brothers but I will not leave you either. Fight with me Asra, but know that I will be with you." There was not a trace of doubt in his voice, only rough determination and the strength of his promise coursing through his every word.

I felt ill equipped to deal with everything I had experienced and it exhausted me to try and keep myself afloat this maelstrom of emotions, but I was filled with a renewed energy knowing that Altaïr would be by my side. I felt like nothing could touch me. I knew that when this was over, everything I had pushed to the side would indignantly rear up once more and I would be exhausted but for now, I had only the task at hand.

Nasih had already joined the violent fray and was hacking and slashing his way through them faster than they could react. Altaïr surveyed the scene with steely eyes but I instead surveyed the sky. The moon's extraordinary light was now beginning to diminish and it would not be long until dawn. It seemed as if this night had lasted forever.

Altaïr glanced at me and parted his lips as if to say something. He seemed to change his mind at the last minute and instead smiled.

"Be careful and stay focused." He warned, "Just remember everything I've taught you."

I nodded and felt a tingling sense of anticipation, but one that was masked with fear and the weight of grief. And then emptiness…such strange emptiness.

"I think you are better than these men." He said darkly, jerking his head in their direction contemptuously. "You have skill; they have only brute force. Use it against them."

I could only feel slightly buoyed by his praise and did not have the desire to reply for a few moments.

"I will be okay if I am with you." I said eventually, smiling softly. He nodded and looked up again, caressing the hilt of his sword with his left hand as if to curry its favour in preparation for the battle he was about to enter. He winced and cursed angrily as he moved his arm too far upwards and the arrow embedded in his shoulder was disturbed.

"I will see to that as soon as this is over." I said softly, trying not to let it worry me in the mean time. I did not want to add to the sea of troubles I had already pushed aside.

He tipped his head in acknowledgment and then his eyes flashed with eagerness for the fight. There was no doubt that he wanted the Templars to suffer even more now after Malik's death. I would be lying if I did not admit to the same desire.

We both began to run towards the fight, our swords brandished, and grief renewing our energy for battle. I'd never been in a fight such as this and I was grateful that Altaïr had taken the time to equip me with some semblance of skill.

We clashed for what felt like hours, Altair a constant beside me. I killed a man during this time and expected to feel disgust or horror… or a reaction of some kind at least. But I felt nothing. It was as if I was mechanical; I moved but I did not feel as if I had told myself to move. Bodies seemed to appear around us quickly as Altaïr took out each and every templar he could find. I helped wherever I could, using the element of surprise to aid me; these Templars did not expect a small woman to be amongst the Assassin's ranks and I was often not spotted until it was too late and I had stabbed them in the leg. Altaïr had to finish them for me as I did not want to test the controls acting upon my fragile state of mind. I had never experiences this strange emotional suppression and so I did not know how far it might stretch. One templar ran at me too fast for me to react with my sword and I only managed to leap onto the ground in time for his sword to reach my thigh, slashing across it before Altaïr elbowed him in the nape of the neck and knocked him out cold. That was not my closest encounter. At one point, I was seized from behind by a brute of a man who was about to take a knife to my throat. I felt so numb that the most I felt was the vague notion of fear that I knew I _should_ feel. What was wrong with me?

The sky was starting to lighten as Altaïr killed the very last Templar with a swift stab to the chest. An exhausted roar of triumph came from the survivors but one tinged with the grief of loss and the knowledge that they had come within a hairs breadth of losing. My weak, battered legs gave up the moment I knew it was over and Altaïr - who had been by my side throughout everything - was there to pick me up. He took my hands and I stood propped on his shoulder as he supported me with a hand around my waist.

I could barely believe that it was over. I knew everything would come later; for now, I was in a state of limbo. I looked up at Altaïr and managed a weak smile. He returned it as best he could before turning to the group of battle weary but triumphant men in front of him.

"MY BROTHERS!" he shouted, commanding the rapt attention of all around him.

His voice was the only sound that rang across the hauntingly quiet village of Masyaf. The steel had fallen silent, the wind was stilled and the birds dared not sing; there was no reason to sing here. An ethereal, ghostly dawn was breaking and the weight of loss hung like a shadow over all.

"My brothers." He repeated, quieter this time. "I know we are exhausted, but there is still work to be done. We cannot rest while our fallen brothers lie here with no dignity. Let us give them what they deserve and honour their sacrifice with the utmost respect."

A quiet murmur of agreement swept through the crowd and with no further words, the men sheathed their swords and mournfully crouched down beside their brothers. It was the most painful sight to behold; grown men tenderly lifted the lifeless corpses of men they had joked with only hours before. Their steps were heavy and slow as they carried the bodies to the courtyard and laid them down with the utmost care. For nearly half an hour, I watched as the rows of bodies became ever more numerous. Soon, the bodies of villagers were brought to lie next to those of the assassin's. It seemed never ending and I felt the weight upon my heart grow with each body that was laid down.

Altaïr was moving bodies too and although I wanted to help, I knew I was too weak to lift the body of a full grown man. I staggered as I pulled myself up and willed my weak, injured legs to work. I moved slowly and painfully towards where I knew Malik lay. For a few moments, I rested his cold, heavy head upon knees and stroked his brow. After a while, Altaïr came to crouch beside me.

"We'll take him to lie with his brothers."

I nodded tearfully and Altaïr crouched down and took Malik into his arms, carrying him as carefully as if he still lived. I walked beside him into the courtyard and pressed my warm lips to his chilled brow for the last time as Altaïr lowered him gently to the ground. We stood up and looked at each other but couldn't bear to speak. Altaïr brought his hand to my face and stroked my cheek lightly with his thumb, his eyes darkening with grief. I closed my eyes and leant into his hands, accepting the proffered support. I looked skywards and bit my lip in an effort not to cry but the tears leaked from the corners of my eyes instead. Altaïr thumbed one away before saying:

"I must go."

I reluctantly nodded and gave him a teary smile as he walked away. I gazed down at Malik one more time and then I too, walked away. I entered the main fortress to see people hurrying to and fro with new linen for bandages, buckets of water and lotions of all kinds. I watched everything with a dull interest and wanted to help but felt too detached to be of any use. I wandered aimlessly and, with no notion of how I had arrived there, or what had elapsed within the time before, I found myself sitting on a window seat, knees drawn up and my head lolling against the cold stone of the wall. My gaze was focused up but I looked at nothing. My body was a dead weight and my arms rested uselessly in my lap. I felt empty, entirely devoid of any emotion. This was the calm before the storm. I noted dully out the window that thick, black smoke had begun to curl into the lightening sky.

And then I must have fallen asleep.

* * *

Altaïr felt only more anger as the bodies were laid out; so many of his men. His elites lay with his novices who in turn lay with his villagers. Altaïr stooped to pick up the body of a small child from the rubble of his house and cursed with fury at how cowardly the Templars were. Their fight had been with the Assassin's only; there had been no need to drag the villagers of Masyaf into it to. They were pathetic. He was darkly happy that every single one of them had been killed. Cowards did not deserve mercy.

By the time day had fully broken, all the bodies of the dead had been collected. Those of the assassin's and the people of Masyaf were laid out within the courtyard, while those of the Templars had been piled outside the fortress. The assassin's had neither the time nor the energy nor even the desire to show respect to the fallen Templars, not when their own people were far more important.

With a deepening anguish, Altaïr knew he could not give his fallen brothers a proper burial, there were far too many of them and graves could not be feasibly be dug for all of them; his men were exhausted and there wasn't even enough room in the ground; they would have to be burned. So would the Templar scum. If he thought he could, he would dig every single grave himself but there was no hope of that, not when he had to be a leader to all these men. And although catastrophe had struck them, they could not shy away from their duty to the people. They had to resume as if nothing had befallen them.

He looked at the faces of the men he loved and admired and did nothing to control the anger that welled up inside him. He wanted to take his sword and mutilate the body of every templar out there but he refused to forget his honour as an Assassin. There was respect for the dead, always. They had already failed in that regard; the bodies had been thrown upon the pile with blatant disregard so he would not heighten that by disrespecting them further. But oh, how he wished to.

It was with a heavy heart that he requested his men to take a torch to the bodies within the courtyard but offering what little respect they could, every man stood before the bodies and kept a moment of silence as the flames began to take hold.

With dark humour, one man murmured, "Best close the windows in the fortress. The smell will be horrific."

There was a smattering of humourless laughs but no man replied. However, many did indeed walk sombrely into the castle and close the windows they came across.

Altaïr was the least one to leave the courtyard. He stood at the very top of the staircases and seemed unable to take his eyes from the bodies as the flames licked appreciatively at them. It was both horrific and strangely calming. After a few moments, he turned and walked into the castle.

As soon as he reached the doorway, his thoughts changed to Asra. He had not seen her for a few hours and he worried for her. She had been through so much in one night. He came upon her by chance in the window just outside his old bed chamber; she was curled up asleep. Even in sleep her expression was one of anguish and distress. Such emotions looked out of place on her delicate face; one that was usually so joyful. He picked her up gently, mindful of both her injuries and his own and carried her to the bed in his room. She was so deeply asleep that she did not even wake when he covered her legs wounds in ground ivy and bandaged them tightly up.

He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips and still she did not wake. Her expression softened a little though. It brought the semblance of a smile to his lips before he stood up and left to tend to the wounded. There was still much to be done.

* * *

_I tried to be faster this time! I've been writing like a demon! _

_Thankyou so much for all your reviews, I assure you that I read every single one of them and try to reply to them all as well, even if I'm really slow at it :P_

_I hope you all have a fantastic christmas and I'm assuming (judging by how fast I can write...) that this chapter will be the last one of this year! ENJOY YOURSELVES PEOPLE! (But not too much!)_

_- minnie x_


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

My name is Livanya and I have committed the greatest folly a jealous woman can commit. I have condemned the only man I love and his lover to certain death. I have become something that is worth only hatred and pity. I have acted in a way that haunts me and leaves me empty. If it had been the right thing to do, I would not be feeling this way.

I have no doubt that love is the strongest emotion. It is all encompassing. A dangerous drug that can both heighten and dull the senses, change your perceptions, manipulate your thoughts. A force that can even kill you. Love shatters all restrain you thought you had; it changes you. I know that I would never have done something so horrific if I hadn't loved him so much. Sounds ridiculous no? But I speak nothing but truth now. I am having a moment of clarity amidst a desert of confusion and turmoil. I loved him so much that I couldn't bear for us not to be together. I am a coward. An evil woman.

No.

No I'm not evil.

I'm in love.

* * *

I woke up suddenly, disorientated and in pain, in a dark room I didn't recognise. I felt as if my thoughts had been covered; they were obscure and indistinguishable. I noticed dully that I was only in my undergarments and that my legs were entirely naked save for the bandages that had not been there before. I suddenly decided that I wanted to see Altaïr. I got shakily off the bed and walked barefoot to the door very slowly, unable to see anything as I felt uncertainly for the door handle, relieved when it finally clicked open and the room was steeped in candle light from the corridor. Not bothering to close the door again, I walked through the passageway with no knowledge of the place I was in, nor of where Altaïr would be. I suddenly felt the most indescribable loneliness and as I passed the window, it only intensified.

The smoke I had noticed just before I'd fallen asleep was now curling in thick tendrils into the sky, different stems snaking around each other in some sick dance. Unforgiving in its blatancy. I realised with a sick, sinking feeling that it could only be the burning of the bodies. Malik. With an uncontrollable sob, the cover enveloping my mind was snatched away, stealing with it my blissful ignorance and I fell to the floor, clinging onto the stone walls and windowsill as if they were my last life line. This was the storm. My chest wracked with sobs and I hung my head against the cold surface, tears dotting and darkening the stone ground beneath me. I was unable to control the grief and I felt sick and weak. I bit my lips until I felt the blood mix with the tears. I made no attempt to get up; I knew that I wouldn't be able to. And so I sat there on the floor, the cold stone chilling me all the way through. I poured out so much of my energy crying that I fell into a fitful half-sleep, kneeling awkwardly against the wall while salty tracts dried themselves onto my cheeks.

Hours later, I numbly heard footsteps; fast footsteps. The person was running and no sooner had I heard them, the person was standing in front of me.

"Asra." The voice was laden with so many different emotions; grief and pain and worry. I felt strangely calm knowing that he was feeling the same as I was at this moment.

I turned my head and looked up but could see nothing; the tears had formed a blurry film over my eyes, but I knew who it was by his presence alone.

"Altaïr." I croaked painfully. Seeing him made me burst into tears again, for no reason.

He was on his knees in an instant, his arms wrapped around me, holding me to his chest.

We sat together in the corridor while I cried more than I thought I was capable of. He cradled my head and stroked my shoulder calmingly for an infinite amount of time, never complaining. He tipped my face up to his and wiped the blood off my chin.

When my last snuffles had subsided, he stood up, picking me up with him and lead me back to the room I'd woken up in. He shut the door gently behind us and then brought me to the bed, where I willingly lay down and curled up into a ball of tears and grief. He lay down beside me and held me, our noses almost touching.

"Sleep Asra."

To placate him, I nodded abidingly. But I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep again. Soon however, Altaïr himself was asleep and I lay next to him, unable to do anything but watch him. As I thought of the dead men outside burning and the horrific things I had seen, I realised with intense anger and hatred, that it could all be attributed to Livanya. I could barely control my rage as I thought of Malik and how unnecessary his death had been; how unnecessary everyone's death had been. I'd never thought I'd had the capacity to hate until I thought of her. The futility of what had happened made me want to scream; at that moment, had Livanya been near me, I felt that it was within my capacity to hurt her. To hurt her as much as she had hurt me.

I looked to Altaïr to try and alleviate my bitter anger but instead of calming me, it angered me more when I noticed the bandaged wound on his shoulder. She had caused him so much pain. I stretched my hand out and lightly ran it over his bandages, my hand shaking so much that I thought it would wake him with my rattling. I was so angry; so angry that I couldn't even cry anymore. I sat up and rested my back against the headboard, kneading my forehead with my palms in frustration, wanting to scream. I felt sub human for the images in my mind of brutality towards Livanya.

I had lost all sense of time but it was light when Altaïr's eyes fluttered open sleepily. The first thing he saw was me curled up on the head board with my palms to my forehead, shuddering. He pried my arms away from my face and stroked my cheek with his forefinger.

"I miss him so much Altaïr." I sobbed.

"I do too Asra." He replied softy.

I gave the only response I seemed to be able to give at the moment; a choked sob.

"I just wish that I could have saved him." He said levelly.

I blinked suddenly, shocked. His voice shocked me. It was instantly obvious from his tone that he blamed himself entirely.

I jumped away from him as if I'd been burned. I frantically held his face in my hands, all tears stopped in their tracks.

"No Altaïr." I denied vehemently, "No. It was not your fault. It wasn't." I whispered wildly, desperate for him to realise that he wasn't responsible. He said nothing.

"It was an arrow Altaïr. An arrow. There was nothing you could do to stop it."

"I know." He said, his jaw taught, "But I need someone to blame. Pointless deaths do not appeal to me." His voice was deathly calm and calculated; he was exercising so much control over it.

At first, I was strongly affected by an overwhelming melancholy at the truth of his words. But I stopped and suddenly was able to see it through Malik's eyes.

"He was fighting for his brothers, Altaïr." I said sadly, the tears threatening to start again. But I could stop them. I'd just realised that to cry for him and to lament the loss was as much of an insult as it was an expected reaction. He would never want either of us to be like we were, especially as he died doing the thing I instinctively knew he would have wanted to have died for. He was protecting his family; a noble death by anyone's standards.

I gave a weak smile and Altaïr looked at me directly, before leaning forwards and kissing me lightly on the lips. The kiss was his understanding and with that moment; I knew he was aware of what I meant. I sat forward a little and smiled at him as best as I could. He leaned his forehead on mine and I held my hands on his shoulders, drawing strength from our contact.

The quiet was broken by a sharp knock on the door. Altaïr turned his head immediately and called; "Come in." I sat back and waited.

I was both surprised and relieved to see the boy I recognised as Omar poke his heavily bandaged head around the door. Even though I didn't know him, I knew his name and knowing that someone I could recognise was alive gave me a strange sense of relief.

"Grand Master. I'm sorry for the interruption, but I have been told to inform you that we have lost Kalim. He has died of his stomach wounds." Altaïr said nothing, so Omar bowed his head and closed the door.

It was quiet for a few moments before I let out a gasp of shock as Altaïr's fist shot back and smashed into the headboard, flinging splinters of broken wood across the covers.

"Goddammit!" He cursed violently, his head hung in anguish and his hand shaking in anger. I could not speak.

"Asra. Let us go to the wounded." He said with difficulty after a moment.

I nodded and stepped onto the floor heavily, my right leg weak from the deep cut by the Templar sword. Altaïr took hold of my arm and we walked out together.

I lightly touched the man's lips with the ladle and tipped it up for him to sip. His throat was dry and no doubt full of dust and sand and so he drank thirstily.

"Slowly." I said quietly, lifting it away slightly and wiping his mouth with a cloth.

"Thank you." He rasped painfully. I winced at the sound of his throat.

"You're welcome."

I shuffled down to his legs and gingerly prised away his clothing, the both of us wincing as it stuck to the wound and had to be tugged away. I washed it and carefully spread crushed ground ivy upon it, smiling to myself as I thought of how acquainted I had become with this herb in the past few months.

I bandaged his leg in silence before I heard his embarrassed cough and looked up from my work.

"I'm sorry to be so rude Miss but……uh, who are you?"

I smiled a little at his look and shook my head, sitting back on my knees. "Don't worry; it's not rude at all. Rather, it's rude of me not to have introduced myself. My name is Asra; I am Malik Al-Sayf's cousin and I am Altaïr Ibn La Ahad's ward." It pained me to speak of him. I could only seem to see the Malik I saw last night. The moaning, injured, weak and sickly Malik. I didn't want to remember him like that.

"Is that so?" He wheezed, sounding rather impressed, snapping me from my inner turmoil. "Quite a connection you've got there."

"I suppose so." I replied politely but distantly, "Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you milady."

"It's nothing." I smiled before shuffling painfully over to another man to begin the whole process again.

In the middle of bandaging my fourth patient, I sat back and tried to give my leg a break; it was beginning to seize up and had already began to re-bleed when I moved. I cringed slightly and sighed, watching the able bodied Assassins and villagers crouching over rows upon rows of injured people. Slightly above the rest was Altaïr and I could hear his patient protesting.

"Master, I can't let you care for me like this!" The man implored.

"Will you shut up?" Altaïr snapped, but not unkindly. "You fought to defend your brothers – myself included – and I'm not even allowed to bandage your damned foot?"

"But…I-" The man began again.

"Shut up before I make you." Altaïr cut in, ending the man's protests rapidly.

I smiled but stopped listening, turning my full attention to the man in front of me and trying to ignore the intense, metallic smell of blood that permeated the hall; I could taste it on my tongue. I watched a group of white robed men walk into the hall, converse with Altaïr in hushed tones and then leave again. I wanted to know what exchange had taken place but I had to deal with the injured man. I gave him water and inspected wounds that I had bandaged many hours ago, before creeping to Altaïr's side.

"What was that?" I asked quietly, suddenly aware that I wasn't sure if I wanted to know.

"Information about the people we've lost." He replied coolly. "Just under eighty men of the brotherhood and another fifty from the village; forty people are injured."

As if seeing the bodies hadn't made it bad enough. Having figures only quantified such horror. Words evaded me and all I could manage was a weak. "I'm sorry…"

"It's best if we focus on the people who have managed to survive." Altaïr said brusquely in response.

I nodded and turned away again with nought but the sea of bloody people in front of me. I tried to suppress the queasy feeling within but it was exacerbated by the lack of any other real feeling.

Thousands of thoughts danced around my head and Berothai suddenly came to the forefront. I found myself thinking of the relatives who were there waiting for me but I was never going to arrive. I needed to send them a letter so they knew that I was safe. I felt a slightly queasy sensation in the bottom of my stomach. I was worried about what Altaïr would do. I had an awful feeling that he may put duty before his emotions. Would he feel compelled to take me to Berothai, despite his feelings?

It was to be the case.

* * *

_Guys, I want you all to know how much your understanding and support means to me. I know how long I've taken to get this chapter out and that makes me massively lame but the workload at school is O-B-S-C-E-N-E! I have so many english and spanish essays to write and coursework deadlines have been coming thick and fast! And I've also be working up to my driving test (which I passed today!) but that was a lot of time and effort! Just know that although it make take me a while, I will NEVER EVER not finish this story! And that is a promise, don't you worry!_

_Thankyou so much, I hope you are all well and good :D_

_- Minnie_


	36. Chapter 36

I stood up weakly and rubbed my tired eyes, surveying the room with blurry peripheral vision. Thankfully, the physicians had said that everyone here was stable, albeit injured to varying degrees of severity. I felt happy that I was able to do a little to help and although I was exhausted and emotionally bereft, I felt I could continue for the sake of these men. I felt like I understood a little more about the Assassin's after today.

They showed ultimate respect to one another, and to everyone around them, even to me - a woman. They were always polite and gentlemanly in their ways, embarrassed coughs all around whenever I stooped to readjust a pillow or change a bandage. They were grateful and humble, without exception. I found them so intriguing for this reason; men of such virtue but with a different side, so full of danger. Perhaps this antithesis is what made them so dangerous, I mused silently.

Charisma to lure and escape, to charm and bribe; it must make them all the more potent to their targets. But I could not escape the fact that I had, without fail, found myself drawn to every man I had spoken to. I did not fear them but then again, I had no need to. They were only dangerous to those who they needed to remove. To anyone else, they were the epitome of integrity. I found myself respecting them a little for their conviction and resolve. While everyone else simply complained about the corruption or the injustice, these men _did_ something about it. They were the action behind everyone's words. They represented the people and to them, the end justified the means.

It was hard to know where you stood with the Assassins. Did you support them or oppose them? Did you disapprove of their methods but approve of their results? It was hard. I think maybe my judgment was clouded by the man I had fallen in love with. I looked over to him standing with a group of black robed men in deep discussion and a small smile played over my lips. Yes, it was hard to go against everything the man you loved believed in and although I could not be in total accordance, I could understand the feelings and intentions behind it.

But above all, I had gained a sense of the intense bond of brotherhood and of duty amongst these men. They would lay down their life for one another, as I had readily seen only twenty four hours previously and they would not renege on a promise. It was this understanding that led me to an uncomfortable conclusion about Altaïr. Even though it felt like a lifetime away since Altaïr had first met me in Jerusalem under strict orders from Malik to escort me to Berothai, in reality it had only been a couple of months and despite all that had occurred between then and now, I had a terrible feeling that Altaïr's mission still stood.

That I was not in Berothai by now was no doubt seen as a failure in Altaïr's eyes and he would not stand for that. I realised with devastating awareness that the time would come, whether it be in the next day or the next week, when Altaïr would come to me and say he was taking me back to Berothai. For some reason, I knew it as truth. He had said to me in Damascus that whatever my feelings were towards him, he would make sure I was safely delivered to Berothai. At the time, he had meant hatred or fear but I knew that the same applied to love.

I felt so overwhelmed by my understanding of this, on top of everything else, that I had to sit back down. I was saturated with pain. Malik had left a hole in my chest that would not heal for many years. He was my last remaining family. The people waiting for me in Berothai were not known to me; they were distant relatives and I felt no kinship with them. No, Malik was all I had. That was, until I found Altaïr. I did not feel alone when I was with him; everything about him was a comfort to me. I loved him. To lose him as well was beyond bearing. I wished that it were not true yet I knew with painful clarity that I was right and he would not allow me into his life. I had a feeling he felt he had already let me in too much.

I stood up again, ignoring the light-headed exhaustion that threatened to overwhelm me and walked to where Altaïr now stood alone and pensive.

"I will sleep now, if that is alright." I said softly.

He looked at me gratefully and inclined his head. "Of course, thank you for your help."

I smiled weakly and nodded before making the arduous journey up the stairs to my room. When I opened the door, I saw that the shutters were open and a cool breeze entered the room, chilling it. I walked to the window and looked outside apprehensively, seeing only destruction. Houses still in ruin, rubble littering the streets, dust settled on the floor; suffering immortalised by physical means.

I turned away and lit the small candle on the table before closing the shutters and blocking out the moon. The room was steeped in a comforting glow and I felt a little more at peace.

I was so tired that the effort of removing my shoes was almost too much for me and when I had finally been enveloped in the thick, warm blanket, it was the ultimate sweetness. I blew out the candle and lay in the blanket of night.

This was my favourite time; this exquisite transient state between sleep and wakefulness; this moment where there is no thought, no movement, no deed more important than the feeling of your body, heavy and warm on the soft bedding. My body lies between the sheets and I am as protected as if I were resting in a cotton womb. This short moment when you are tired enough that to open your eyes requires a force of will too great; this is my favourite time. It is an ephemeral, fleeting state of wild exhaustion that leads to complete relaxation. All you can do is breathe gently, shallowly and wait for the few minutes until sleep takes you in its embrace, like an old friend.

This is the moment I look forward to each day and this is why I cannot abide trying to sleep when I am not tired. When you are not tired, sleep becomes an elusive spirit, flitting through your grasp, tempting you but never submitting. I hate this feeling; it is a feeling of helplessness, knowing that you can do nothing to make it come faster: you must simply wait. Only when I am as tired as I am now can I experience this beautiful, delicate feeling as it envelops me and softly brings me the ultimate liberation, if only for a short while. I knew that in the morning, my worries would hound me again but for now, I felt the sweetest nothing.

* * *

I woke up the following morning before the sun itself had even done so. I had slept soundly for the first time since I arrived in Masyaf; exhaustion had left no place for anything else but now that I had awakened, I had broken the watery surface of my sleepy mind and exposed myself once again to the horrors above. My fears, my grief and my worry were quick to make their presence known as I placed a bare foot on the creaky boarded floor and stretched my still weak body. I had hoped that Altaïr would have joined me - his presence was balm to me. But he had not. I had not thought he would make true my predictions so soon. I took a deep breath and tried to contain my worries so that they may not interfere with the coming day. And then I got out of bed.

* * *

For a few days, our interactions were distant but nothing unexpected; we were both still recovering from a terrible loss. Altaïr especially, who felt nothing but the burden of guilt for nearly all that had occurred. I did not see him often; he spent most of his time encased in his office, stooped over a desk and meeting with people more important than I at this moment. But Altaïr never sought me out and if we did see each other, it was not like before. I could see he was holding back. I was being cut off. It came to pass when I knew my departure was imminent, whether I wanted it or not and so there became a certain inevitability with which I faced the coming weeks.

I now knew he would broach the subject, I just did not know when or how. I am a patient person; I will never press people for information they do not want to give but in this case, I found it difficult to wait. It was simply waiting for confirmation regarding something I had already worked out for myself. It felt a little futile to delay yet I could not bring myself to broach the subject myself. I wanted Altaïr to do it when he was ready. And at least this waiting gave me time to formulate sufficiently scathing retorts.

And then one day, on a rare meet between the two of us, he said my name in such a way that I knew what his next words were to be.

"Asra."

I turned my head towards him and tried to look attentive, when inside I wished to run away and avoid him so he could never say it.

"You have to go back to Berothai. I will take you." He became a stone; a beautiful statue.

It was crushing. I knew it was coming but I could never have prepared for how much it hurt me.

"I do not want to go." I replied, my voice tight through control. It took all I had not to scream the words like a child.

"I have a duty Asra, to Malik and to myself. I said I would take you and so I will." He gave nothing away. He spoke impassively, like when I had first met him in Jerusalem, and he had answered my questions in the very same, cold and unfeeling tone. I didn't want to hear him like that again. It would be like having the cover pulled away from my eyes and allowed a moment of that soft, shining light only to be blinded once more and left to dwell upon what I had lost.

"Please do not think of your duty," I said tenderly, "think of yourself." I looked into his eyes and searched for anything but indifference. He seemed not to waver for a moment.

I closed my eyes for a moment and breathed in deeply. All my scathing replies had melted away in the moment and left me nigh on speechless. What could I say? He had decided and raging beasts could not change his mind. He had an objective to complete. No doubt he considered the time spent with me previously to be a diversion enough from his original task. He was trying to rectify his mistake. It hurt unbearably.

When I didn't speak again, he continued.

"We will leave tomorrow morning. I will escort you the way again. I promise to protect you better this time." It was formal; a business arrangement and nothing more.

"Thank you." I choked. Hot emotion welled within me and I balled my fists in an attempt not to cry. I hung my head so that if I did cry, he could not see. He nodded and turned on his heel out the room.

And I realised in that moment that he allowed nothing to enter him that came from another world.

* * *

I was angry at myself for not putting up a fight. There were so many things I could have shouted. I could have tried harder to convince him he was being ridiculous yet all I did was cry. After he had left me that evening, I lay in my bed and cried, the result of which became anger when the morning came. He must consider himself possessing some Herculaneum force of will in forfeiting personal happiness for duty. Other men would have realised their folly; but not Altaïr. He did not want to see further than he had been raised to see. Stupid man.

Yet how I loved him. With every fibre of my being I loved him and I had every reason to believe he loved me too but was denying it for some misguided greater purpose.

I thought of Malik. It was true that he had asked Altaïr to take me to Berothai but would he feel the same way now? Would he feel the same way now if he knew I would be so alone there, without even him to see? No, he would never do that. And I knew that if he realised how I felt about Altaïr, he would never order me away. No, Altaïr was not going against Malik's will, only his own. And yet he could not see it. And I could not make him see it.

* * *

When the morning came around, I arose early and filled up the crude wooden tub that had been provided for me, with the help of the kindly servant women. She bowed slightly and left when it had been filled. I watched the door close softly behind her and I waited until her footsteps had faded away down the corridor. Every time I was alone, this hot distress welled up inside of me until my body could contain it no more and it spilled down my face in salty trickles. I pulled my clothes off and let them drop to the floor until I was standing naked, cloaked in tears. When I had cried all I could for that morning, I stepped lightly to the bath and dipped one cold foot in. It was warm and welcoming and I sat down and curled my knees up to my cheeks, wrapping my arms around my shins. After what felt like hours, I leant back and submerged my mass of wild curls, using the special lotions provided to clean and perfume it. It felt so lovely in this warm water that for a brief moment, I forgot the journey I was about to undertake.

But it didn't last. As soon as I stood up and my body met the cold air, the reason for my departure hit me with painful acuity once more and I had to look upwards to stop the tears from falling. I wrapped myself quickly in the robe provided and sat on the edge of my bed. I seemed to perform these actions in some sort of daze, floating despondently from one act to another, never really thinking of anything but Altaïr. Perhaps I was holding myself in too high a regard but, I was certain that he did not want to leave me either. In fact, I was sure of it. Except that unlike me, he was entirely capable of ignoring his feelings when they did not suit him and to him. Love was something that did not suit him

Livanya suddenly flashed into my head, and I realised, with a softening heart that this is what she must have experienced. For the first time since the horrific and bloody culmination of her jealousy, I felt a pang of sorrow for all that she must have gone through.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to ascend over the curve of the land when Altaïr knocked on my door and asked if I was ready to leave.

'_No, no, no!_' I screamed inside but my traitorous lips mumbled, "Yes."

He nodded brusquely and stepped out of the room, beckoning me to follow. We walked silently to the gates of Masyaf, past the villagers who had still not yet finished mourning their dead. Khalil and Maysaa were finally recovered after their brutal journey here and saddled, ready to depart instantly. I realised that any opportunity for Altaïr to change his mind had passed long ago. He was resolved to depart and his actions betrayed nothing but this intention. He mounted Khalil assuredly and waited for me to climb onto Maysaa. I was slow and ungainly in doing so, no spirit behind my actions. Altaïr waited until I was safely on before he rode ahead. I had no option but to follow. And so began my painfully quick journey to Berothai in the presence of the man I loved but could not reach.

* * *

The days passed in hot, uneventful succession. We would camp at night in small villages or under trees if need be, but never once together. He avoided touching me and spoke to me only when necessary. I lived in my head. Every time I tried to speak to him my throat would constrict and the words would not come out. Every now and then he would glance at me and I could have sworn I saw something in his eyes. But as soon as I saw it, it was gone and his granite resolve reappeared.

By the time a week had passed, I had given up all hope. Perhaps he truly did not love me and I had merely been a diversion. I tried to convince myself of this, so that I could be angry at him instead. But I could not do it. A part inside me knew that he loved me as I loved him and that part was thankfully strong and full of life, like a fire that could not be put out, no matter how much it rained. And how it has rained.

After nine arduous and tryingly rapid days, Altaïr informed me that it would only be a further day of travelling until we reached Berothai. My heart sank ever further and the melancholy that had gripped me ever since I first caught wind of his intentions, tightened ever stronger. I should be so angry with him, yet I knew that was an emotion I could not muster well; it did not come easily to me. But I could not be angry at him because I knew why he was doing it; his duty was his life. I knew how blind he was being, yet I could not seem to express myself to that effect. I was angrier at myself for being too meek to tell him how stupid he was being.

When he told me the next day that the small town peeping over the horizon was Berothai, I felt the weak resolve within me strengthen ever so slightly; as if seeing the very town itself had reminded it how little time it had to make a significant appearance.

"Why are you doing this?" my ever-soft voice was even quieter through lack of use, but I knew he could hear me.

I could tell instantly that the hurt in my words had struck him for he breathed in ever so slightly, as if preparing himself.

"It is my duty as a member of the brotherhood. I was given a mission and so I must carry it out." His voice had no intonation and he kept his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Is it really that? Is this all I am to you?"

His eyes flashed. "Yes." His resolve was steadfast. I felt that naively confident part within me falter.

"Truly?" I asked, afraid now of the answer.

"Yes." He repeated. If before had been the rain, his answer was the flood. He did not love me and I had no response.

* * *

We rode towards the small village surrounded by swaying trees. It looked very pretty but I had no heart to care. I could only focus upon the back of Altaïr's hooded head, as if by staring at him, I might be able to convey my feelings. But of course, nothing changed. Without warning, he dismounted and took Khalil's reins in his hands to walk the rest of the way. I too dismounted. I choked back my despair so that I may face my new guardians with a modicum of dignity. I refused to cry from here on out.

My legs hurt from the riding and each step was sorer than the one before, but it was not just the pain from the journey. With every step, hope slipped away. By the time we reached the door of a modestly sized house and Altaïr had knocked on it three times, I felt nothing but cold emptiness. It took all my will to glance at him once more. His gaze was averted.

A kindly looking middle-aged woman with her hair in a severe bun pulled the thick wooden door open and glanced at us in surprise.

"Ah, Asra! We were expecting you weeks ago! We'd thought something terrible had happened!" I smiled at her and apologised.

"I know, I am very sorry for the delay. There were…unforeseen circumstances." I finished weakly. She gave a jovial smile and turned her head to Altaïr.

"Thank you young man, I see she is safe and sound! Malik said you could be trusted!"

He nodded in acceptance of her thanks. "It was my pleasure. I hope you will take good care of her." His tone was entirely indiscernible save for the sincerity in those words. But I was long past looking for lifelines. Whether or not there was care in his voice was irrelevant now. He did not care enough to want to be with me.

"Oh, no worries there at all my boy, she will be looked after like one of my own! And I do have four!" Her eyes crinkled pleasingly when she laughed and I found myself at least being glad that she was kind.

"Well, come in you two! Goodness, you both look as dreary as rain!" She laughed to herself again, motioning with her hands for us to come into the house.

"No." Altaïr said quickly. "Thank you for your hospitality, but I must return as soon as possible."

"Are you sure? You've come ever so far!" She said with motherly surprise.

"I am sure, thank you." He nodded his head briefly in thanks. Just as he made to leave, he looked at the kindly lady once more and said seriously, "Please care for her." Although it seemed for her, it was to me that he then turned his eyes. He looked at me for once moment, his eye fixed to mine, drinking in my thoughts. I could tell nothing from him but I knew that he saw every facet of my being. I blinked and all at once, he had turned around and walked back to Khalil, taken his reins in his powerful hand and walked off. Gone. I watched him walk away. Praying that maybe he would turn around. But he did not.

The lady looked at me quizzically when I did not move and so placed a hand on my forearm, gently but firmly pulling me into the house.

"Come child! You are away with spirits, I swear!"

"I-I am sorry. Pardon my rudeness." I apologised weakly, trying still to look to the point where Altaïr's body had dissolved into the crowd.

"Don't be silly my dear. Come, you must be hungry and introductions are in order!" I allowed her to guide me into the house, averting my eyes only when the door was forcibly closed.

* * *

I could not complain, it was wrong of me to do so. The house in which I now lived was lovely and well furnished and these distant relatives were warm and welcoming and kind. But I could think of nothing but him. Every waking hour was him. I helped around the house as much as I could; it kept me so busy that I didn't have time to dwell.

It was crowded now that seven people lived here. I shared a room with her two daughters, both of whom were gracefully accepting of my invasion. I had no belongings, so at least I did not take up too much space.

* * *

A week and a half passed and I had found a comfortable medium between my life with the family and my life inside my head. I had always found it easy to act as normal in any situation and so my new family did not know I was grieving.

But I had still lost the two most important people in my life. The grief would greet me in the morning and embrace me at night, a constant thorn in my side. But the family did not know and I would not let them know. I smiled brightly at them, laughed with them at dinner, helped them with chores in the house and around the village and never allowed them to see my pain.

I did though, in a moment of weakness, mention to the twin girls - Hala and Inaya - that I was the way I was because I was bereft of the two men I loved. At first they had been scandalised, assuming that I had had two lovers. I could not help but smile at their shocked looks, they were only young, just fourteen but they had a knowledge of the world that sat firmly advance of their years.

"No, I meant that I miss Malik." I said quietly. The girls nodded understandingly. The family of course knew now of Malik's death, I had had to tell them the moment I arrived. And although I still did now know the connection Malik and I had to this family, they were sufficiently upset that I realised it must be fairly close. The girls, however, had only met Malik as babies and so could nod in sympathetic understanding, but did not miss them in the way the rest of the family did.

Not in the way I did.

Hala looked at me with a sidelong glance, a small knowing smile playing upon her lips. "I know of Malik, Asra. But who is the other man from whom you are parted?" I couldn't help but smile at the unabashed curiosity with which she spoke. It was refreshing, though painful for me. But I did feel like it may help me if I could speak of it with someone.

I took a deep breath and steadied myself. The twins were sitting on their large bed facing my own bed in the corner of the room. They looked at me with hungry eyes.

"Hala, Inaya." I said sternly as I could. "You must swear not to tell anyone of what I will confide in you. Please?" I sounded desperate, even to my own ears.

"Of course." Inaya replied kindly. She spoke for her sister also, who nodded emphatically.

"There isn't much to say…" I started, letting Altaïr's face flood my mind and enrapture my senses. "…except that I am in love with a man I cannot be with." I sighed. "And I miss him dearly."

Hala, the extrovert and fiery twin with an inquisitive, girlish sparkle in her eyes, looked at me slyly.

"Did you lie with him?"

Inaya, undoubtedly the more unassuming one, spluttered in embarrassment at such a question. My reaction mirrored hers almost perfectly.

"Hala!" We both cried before all of us exploded into giggles.

"What!" She cried, unabashed at her outrageous question, "I am merely interested!"

I laughed and Inaya reprimanded.

"Hala, we are not…….we _were_ not married. We did not touch each other." I said solemnly, desperately trying to remove the image of Altaïr's hand trailing over my back or caressing my face. But it was true, we never had.

"But you loved him?" Inaya piped up, now that she'd finished reprimanding her sister.

"With all my heart." I replied softly.

I did not want to go into any more detail and the girls were gracious in backing down from questioning. And although it did not alleviate the pain, it at least made me feel a little less alone.

* * *

I knew that I would recover; I would never forget but I would recover. I knew it would come to pass when the memory of Altaïr existed within my mind, always there but painless and covert. For now however, his image burned raw and at night, I longed for his strong hold around me. I longed for the touch of his lips on mine and for the evenings I had spent close to him, deep within his memories.

It felt wrong to be party to so much in so little time, only for it to suddenly stop and to be returned to such a mundane existence. Of course, I never wished to be imprisoned again, or to be beaten to within an inch of my life, yet I almost wish I could go back because then at least, I would be with him. I found myself wondering if he thought of me. I realised that he probably did not. He was an Assassin; able to forget the man through whom his blade had passed, even before he had hit the ground.

* * *

Three or so weeks had now passed since Altaïr had left me here and things had changed considerably. The family had taken it upon themselves to carry on with their life where I appeared too despondent to join in. Although I was always polite, I was nonexistent. They worked around me, incorporating me into their day when absolutely necessary.

One day, while I sat unobtrusively at the table, having washed and broken my fast already, the mother of this household, whose name was Fatima came and sat beside me. Her eyes searched my face appraisingly, settling upon my features one by one and scrutinizing them until I was uncomfortable but remained silent.

"How old are you child?" Her tone was not as gentle as it had been when I had first met her; she had become frustrated with my overly polite and unassuming nature. I wandered as a spirit amongst them, never burdening but never involved. I must have disappointed them.

"I am nineteen." I replied. She clasped my cheeks in one hand and turned my head from side to side; a merchant inspecting wares. I was irked at the handling but said nothing. She let go and her eyebrows knitted together on her slightly wrinkled forehead.

"You know that my daughters are fourteen now." She stated matter-of-factly. I did but I could not fathom her reason for mentioning it. Hala and Inaya, her twin daughters whose room I now shared, had just turned fourteen weeks before I arrived. They were two lovely creatures, kind and sympathetic enough that I had confided in them of my grief.

"Yes." I replied, confused.

"And they are to be married soon." She stated.

I choked on the water I had been sipping. "Already?" I gasped.

"Of course! I have found them each lovely husbands from the village. Brothers would you believe! That way, they can be siblings and sisters-in-law!"

She said everything with a self-satisfied air and one that invited praise. But I could only be shocked. They were so young.

But something disturbed me more. Her questions and intentions came together in my mind in a way that made me feel physically sick.

"It is time you too were married." Fatima said.

My eyes widened and I felt my jaw slacken slightly. I could not form words, I could only gape.

"But it will be hard," Fatima mused, standing up quickly, "you are ever so old now. I wonder if anyone will take you. But fear not, I am very good at matchmaking. I will find you someone suitable. You are very pretty, good sized hips and a small waist. You will do well!"

Her words were not at all directed of me; she spoke entirely to herself and she continued talking excitedly even when she had walked out the door.

"But Fatima, please," I cried, jumping up and following her, "I do not wish to be married."

"Don't be silly." She said with a flippant wave of her hand, "You cannot very well go on living here. You will be married and someone else will provide for you." And she walked quickly out of the door and upstairs to call the twins to join her for shopping.

I sat down hard on the chair, my mind in sick turmoil. Altaïr joined me in my head, haunting me with his presence. How cruel my mind was to remind me of him, in a time when I was thinking of my marriage to someone I could never love as I loved him.

* * *

The world was so often a cruel place. I had seen - even experienced - war and death, pain and suffering and I could deal with it. But now, faced with the prospect of losing what little independence and freedom I had, I felt such hysteria well up within me that I was surprised I did not go instantly mad. I had never had to think of marriage; it had been the only benefit of my father. He had spent too much time glutting on fine wine and good food to take an interest in my life, something which I had always been thankful for. Perhaps it was the absence of a woman in my life but I had never been instilled with a sense of conformity towards arranged marriages. They struck me as degrading and frightening. I never wished to be tied to someone that I had never met, or worse yet, had met but did not like. To have no choice in something so significant was a prospect that chilled me to the core.

And now here I was, in exactly the situation I had thought I had escaped. I was so foolish to think I could continue living my unmarried life. But being with Altaïr had made me feel as if I could do anything. He did not treat me like most men do; with as much respect as they would lavish upon a rat. He treated me like a person, someone with my own opinions and thoughts. I was never afraid to talk around him. And now, having emerged from this opulent bubble, I was facing the harsh reality of a woman's life. I could not help but think of Hala and Inaya, who would no doubt be pregnant by this time next year. I shuddered at the thought of these child-women having children themselves. There was something so wrong about forced marriage but I had a feeling Hala and Inaya had been indoctrinated into the 'correct' school of thought by their mother and so would not lament this coming arrangement. I suppose this was good though, because it would not cause them any heart-ache this way. Whereas I had never been brought up to expect a marriage and now I was faced with one and it made my whole being quiver with fear and revulsion.

Many things crossed my mind: an escape, a fight even but one by one my ideas were quashed by my own rationality. I knew there was nothing I could do. I was a member of this family now, effectively a daughter of Fatima and I had to do as she bid. Angrily, the impulsive part of me watched as it was calmed against its will, usurped by weak acceptance. I had no choice but to go through with this marriage. And I had decided, ever since I arrived in Berothai, that dignity was my new aim.

I would face it with dignity, mask my grief and my fear with dignity and watch dignifiedly as my freedom was forcibly ripped away and cast aside.

Yes. Dignity.

* * *

This was all getting too much.

* * *

_Dear readers, it has taken me a long time, I know. As much as we all hate it, I have my A-Levels (Exams you take in England when you're around 17-18) in about a month! I'm panicking and should be doing a lot of work but all I seem capable of doing is slacking! I'm imminently about to fail Chemistry! Woo!_

_You are ever patient and I am so grateful to you for making my writing experience so wonderful. Thankyou, and bear with me._

_Onto a slightly less sappy point! Have you heard of Assassins Creed: Brotherhood? Is that a no I hear? Same as me until about an hour ago! I had no idea it had even been announced but apparently it has been and the teaser website is already up! Go and take a look: ./brotherhood/_

_We get the return of our favourite florentine Assassin, Ezio. Should be good!_

_Take care my lovelies and see you soon!_

_- Minnie_


	37. Chapter 37

**Chapter 37**

I sat in the dining hall tracing my fingers impatiently over knots in the thick wooden table, my cheek supported on the palm of my other hand. Today was a new day and I did not feel any of my previous weakness; my acceptance had turned to indignation which had quickly become cunning. I had no intention of going through with this farce. I was quite sure that I was going to cause as many problems as possible to this prospective suitor, such that he went running back to his parents, quivering in fear and begging not to be forced to marry a woman such as myself. Oh, the plans I had concocted. I laughed at how casually I was taking this; I think I really had gone slightly peculiar in the head. Altaïr's voice swam headily in my mind, enticing and exciting. How I wished that it was Altaïr who would walk through that door with Fatima, staring at the door in question, hearing the quiet discussion and movement behind it.

But of course, the man who came through that door could not have been more different to Altaïr unless Allah himself had fashioned one out of pure gold and the other out of sand. He was no taller than I, with thick curly black hair merging with a full beard. His eyes were deep set, with a nose too big for his squat face. I found myself oddly mesmerized by the bushiness of his brows; they threatened to elope with his hair at any moment. It gave him a rather severe look and his square set body made all his features look compressed. He had but the anagram of a good face. I knew from Fatima that he was only one and twenty yet his lined face belied this fact.

He also looked uncomfortable and skittish, to be expected I suppose. He was nervous but seemed to relax when his eyes set upon my decorated face and body. I smirked to myself. He was going to learn that beauty had no bearing on temperament.

He had a shrinking disposition, one that made me think he was quite easily influenced. He seemed to have no presence in this room, despite his status as a male. I felt my confidence grow; he looked easily conquerable.

Fatima trailed behind him, simperingly desperate to please with his parents breathing down her neck in the other room.

"Sahl, this is Asra. You will find her to your liking. She is beautiful and biddable; she will produce you good sons." Fatima said, in a voice as sweet and as fake as rancid honey.

"Like hell I will." I grumbled under my breath, drawing a smile across my face as I nodded my head in his direction. Both he and Fatima would be damned if they thought I was going bow any lower than that. This man Sahl inclined his head in response and stepped towards me.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." He said, politely enough. I continued to smile like a fool. Fatima threw me surreptitious dirty look.

"The arrangements are all made children." Fatima said, addressing us both, "You are to be wed in two weeks from now. This meeting is purely an indulgence. I will be with your parents Sahl." And with that she bustled quickly from the room, leaving me and this furry beast alone. I suppose I must be thankful that he was not any older than he had turned out to be and that I was able to meet him before the moment I entered our marriage hall. All too often couples only met on the day of their wedding. I shuddered at the thought. At least this way, I had a chance to prove to him firsthand how unsuitable I was.

Sahl made no attempt to speak; he just stood there awkwardly so I launched into my tirade:

"Good sir, I trust you are fully aware that I do not want to enter into this ridiculous contract." Seething, I crossed my arms and and glared at him. Poor man, it was not his fault but it was damned well going to be him who received the brunt of my fury. I did not have more than a few minutes to enlighten him to my displeasure because Fatima could return at any moment.

He looked momentarily aghast at how I had addressed him but handled it better than I would have imagined.

His expression was as grim as my own. "Oh I am fully aware, good woman, but it is not up to either of us is it?" He replied pointedly. I sniffed dismissively and did not reply. I was surprised by his response; I had expected anger at my insolence but he had practically ignored it.

"I, quite frankly, have no desire to enter into a binding marriage with a rancorous she-devil like you!" He huffed, turning away from me and sulking, showing quite plainly his tender age of twenty-one and the countenance of a spoiled only son.

I suppressed a laugh. Maybe it would be easier to put him off the idea than I had first thought. I had no problem being branded unfit for marriage, it would suit me quite well indeed. There was nothing Fatima could do if no-one wanted me. I smiled slyly.

"Do you intend to marry me?" I asked accusingly.

"Quite so." He replied haughtily. "It is my parents wish."

"You will find I am quite unfit for marriage." I explained, as if I were simply giving him directions.

"So I have realised. I am in a right mind to beat you for your insolence." He said.

I was a little taken aback at his change in demeanour but not in the least bit surprised. He was a typical male after all. But he looked nervous in saying it. I would guess he was acting how he thought one was meant to act in this situation and not how he truly would react. I struggled a little to say something mean but I forced myself to do so. It was for the greater good. I did experience a little thrill at being so cutting though.

"You could no more beat me if I were tied to the floor and missing a leg!" I laughed, feeling quite pleasantly mutinous.

His little eyes bulged in their sockets at my back-chat but I stared him down, hoping that he would denounce me there and then. But he remained silent and looked quite panicked. He had obviously never had to deal with an 'insolent' woman before and I was presenting him with quite the challenge. Suffice to say I felt rather proud. At that moment, I was twice the man he was and he knew it.

"Do not talk to me like that!" he baulked.

"I shall talk to you in any way I please," I retorted, before adding, "…sir" and inclined my head towards him.

The sarcasm was not lost on him and I could almost see the little red mist of anger creeping up his face.

"Can I count on your cooperation in the termination of this agreement?" I enquired civilly.

He was at a loss for words but managed to stutter: "N-No…My parents desire this union and therefore, it will be so!"

"Oh wonderful." I said, rolling my eyes at his response. "Do you ever think for yourself or have I just caught you on a particularly doltish day?"

Sighing, I crossed my arms in an ever more irritated way. I almost began to tap my foot on the floor.

He gaped in my general direction, seemingly wracking his brains for something to say but coming up blank. I sighed again, more pronounced this time, before turning on my heel, yanking open the front door and marching out, not even bothering to close it again.

It took him a good ten seconds before he was able to process what I had just done and only then did he stutter: "Wait! Where are you going!"

"Out. What does it look like?" I replied, not bothering to face him but continuing on my warpath around the house to the stables.

"You are my betrothed now!" He cried, following me out of the house, "You shall do as I say! Come back inside." He made a laughable attempt to harden his voice.

"I shall not." I announced and reached the stable where Maysaa was housed. I stroked her velvet nose and resisted the urge to jump on her back and escape from this place. I heard him jog up behind me and take a breath as he readied himself to protest but I turned to him with thunder in my eyes that stopped him dead.

"I will not do as you say; I shall _never _do as you say." I said angrily, stressing the 'never' so that I left no room for doubt. He needed to know that I would not make this easy for him.

He stared at me aghast, flitting backwards and forth between indecision and action. He had no idea how to deal with me and I was in no mood to wait and see how he would respond.

I deftly and quickly placed the saddle on Maysaa's back, tightened the girth and worked a bridle over her head before untying the knot that bound her to the stable. I jumped on her back without a moments glance towards Sahl.

"Tell Fatima I have gone for a ride if she asks." I said off-hand before setting off at a leisurely walk towards the open land at the outskirts of Berothai. I resisted the temptation to look at Sahl but I could imagine his face regardless. He was utterly gobsmacked and had no inkling of how to react to my conduct. I felt the smallest twinges of guilt at my behaviour but I had to fight for my freedom and disobedience was the only option I had open to me. I breathed deeply in and out to calm myself as I rode gently along the scrubby land and thought ahead with sick anticipation as to how Fatima would react when I returned. She would be utterly furious but I would suffer her wrath if it meant liberty from marriage.

* * *

'Furious' did not even begin to describe Fatima. She heard me ride back towards the house and marched out to me with such rage in her eyes that I recoiled a little at the sight of her. I tied Maysaa up quickly, fumbling a little in the dark, and prepared myself for the worst. She gripped my wrist with surprising strength for a woman of her age and dragged me back inside, marching me to the table and throwing me in the general direction of a chair. I managed to grab it before I fell over but righted myself and stood behind it.

"Sit down." She murmured, her voice ever so quiet but utterly terrifying.

I considered for a moment disobeying her but I had a feeling that she was not to be pushed tonight. I gingerly lowered myself into the seat.

"Have you any idea what you have done?" She roared, now that I was in a lower position than her.

I hoped with all my heart that she would say Sahl had called the engagement off.

"You have jeopardised everything I have been planning." She paced in front of me as if she was trying hard not to explode.

"You are lucky your betrothal still stands!" She turned to me, her eyes boring into my own and I made completely sure that none of my disappointment showed in my face. What did I have to do to this man to put him off? Had I not already displayed that I could be utterly volatile and outrageously rude? What else could I do to make him realised I was the last person he would want to be tied to for the rest of his life?

Fatima resumed her angry pacing in front of my chair. She also seemed troubled at how to deal with me. Her own two daughters had never caused her a problem.

"Please do not make me marry him." I said, my voice a little quieter than I would have liked.

"You must marry him!" She countered irately.

"If you wish to not provide for me then let me leave." I said, completely serious. I would simply find somewhere far away to live where I could get a job and never marry.

"Are you insane?" She cried manically, her eyes as wide as plates, providing me with an irony I could not fail to find amusing. But I made sure not to smile.

"You would not have to deal with me that way." I reasoned. I would even prefer to return to Jerusalem, to my father. He may be abusive, drunk and entirely unpalatable but it was more favourable than marriage in my eyes.

"Malik would never forgive me if I abandoned you!" She squealed, scandalised that I had even broached the question.

"Malik would not want this for me!" I cried back, jumping up from the chair to stand at my full height, which happened to be above Fatima and so I felt a little less intimidated.

"Malik would want you to be provided for!" Fatima snapped. Her voice became higher in her anger and she ended her sentences with a high pitched noise that almost hurt my ears. I looked upwards, as if the answers were hidden in the ceiling and sighed. She would not understand and she would believe whatever suited her.

"I would leave discreetly and you would never have to deal with me again. Sahl never need know you permitted it. You could say I ran away." I reasoned, offering up what were, in my mind, several viable options that I knew Fatima was too dogmatic to consider. But really I was rising above myself. Of course they were viable options but only in theory; in practise I was a woman, a commodity owned by Fatima and her husband, like Hala and Inaya, to be wedded off to a man and so be owned by him. I was being insolent in even talking back to Fatima, let alone suggesting that she let me leave. And I could see that she was thinking exactly that. She was so furious that the lines looked like they may never leave her forehead.

"You impudent girl!" She fumed. "You will marry Sahl and I will hear no more of it! If Malik could see you now he would be so disappointed!" And with that she left, nosily slamming the door and ending out conversation.

Her words stung but not because they were true. I hated her involving Malik in an attempt to prove her flawed point. She mentioned him to try and make me feel guilty but she never knew him as I did and it made me angry that she tried. He would not be disappointed in me at all; in fact I think he may have been a little impressed at my spirit! I smiled at that thought but the smile soon went. There was not a lot to smile about at this time.

With Fatima gone, I had no option but to sleep. I traipsed up the stairs with a heavy heart and crept into my room, careful not to wake Hala or Inaya. I silently pulled off my shoes and outer layers until I was in nothing but my loose undergarments. Refreshingly cooler now, I climbed into my bed and lay atop the covers, too warm to lie beneath them. I stared at the ceiling and felt my mind go blank for a few minutes before I started thinking about the fact I was not thinking, making my mind active once more.

I felt truly at a loss. Whenever I felt like this my mind always wandered back to Altaïr. Normally Altaïr would help me to see things clearly once more but this time, I had to concede that everything was his fault and this fact, teamed with his absence, rendered him entirely useless at this moment. Instead, I just enjoyed the sound of his voice in my mind. I knew I was simply torturing myself by indulging in these imaginings but I would do so forever if it could remind me of when we were together. I knew I would not see him again and so I would not forgo the sight of him in my mind. I did not want to get over him. I wanted to always remember him and the way he looked, the way he sounded and the way he made me feel, even if it pained me for the rest of my life. I could not sleep much after that. I hated the way that when things got a little too much, the frustration fell as tears. I knew I could survive all of this hardship but my traitorous body cried nevertheless. I remained silent so as not to wake the twins.

* * *

To give credit where credit was due, Fatima was doing her best to let me and Sahl get to know each other before the marriage was set to take place. However, that was like thanking someone for not kicking you in the shins when they had already slapped you in the face.

Unfortunately, my little excursion had caused Fatima to step up her guard, such that Sahl and I were hardly ever left alone and I had very little opportunity to put him off without Fatima realising my intentions. I took to veiling my insults to such an extent that they were discernable but not immediately obvious. Fatima would pick up on them every now and then and shoot me the dirtiest of looks but she would never speak out in case of embarrassment. But I was very careful not to arouse her suspicions any more than necessary. It was a week before Fatima 'trusted' me enough to exit the room for extended periods of time and this left me with only one week until the wedding.

When Sahl was due to visit, Fatima would dunk me in the bath, douse my hair in perfumes and lotions and slather kohl around my eyes until I was trussed up like a child's doll. Fatima and the twins would gush about how stunning I looked whereas I was sure I looked like nothing more than a prostitute. My eyes felt itchy and I smelt as if I had fought with a rose bush and lost. Fatima had bought beautiful new clothes for me that under any other circumstances I would have loved but the fact they had been purchased to impress Sahl made me defiant. I was forced into them nonetheless.

However as soon as Fatima had turned her back, considering it safe to leave me unsupervised for a moment, I would wipe the horrible kohl from my eyes, tousle my hair until I looked as if I had been dragged through a bush and pull off the lovely clothes to reveal the tatty rags I wore beneath. And then I would run to Sahl before she had a chance to see what I had done. And hence, I spent my time in Sahl's presence with Kohl messily rubbed around my eyes, old tattered clothes and hair as raggedy as a mangy cat's and I revelled in the way that his eyebrows disappeared into his hair every time he saw me. He always looked so disheartened at the sight of me that I found myself daring to believe he would eventually give up on me. Yet, given that there was less than a week left until the ceremony, he needed to make it quick.

But everything I did seemed to be to no avail. I was so abhorrently and unacceptably rude to him but he seemed to simply accept it. We slipped into an awkward routine of defiance and tolerance, so my actions quickly became meaningless. He did not seem to care that I had all the grace, elegance and decorum of pig in swill. I could see nothing attractive about me yet he continued to cling on to our betrothal. I started to wonder whether Fatima had actually paid him to marry me. It certainly seemed like there was something else tying him to me. Perhaps I had a larger dowry than expected. But whatever it was, it did not change the fact my marriage was imminent.

I had a mere four days before the wedding and Sahl had not changed his mind. So with difficulty, I decided that if I had not managed to break off the engagement in the next three days, I would simply run away. I would take Maysaa and I would return to Jerusalem, to my father, and I would suffer the hardship for the sake of my semblance of freedom. My father would not make me marry for he did not care. He was drunk most of the time and so often did not notice if I was gone and providing there was food on the table at set times during the day, I knew he would not care about where I was in-between those times. I would be free, if only for short periods. But that was all I cared about. With a husband, I would never be able to leave the house at all, and I would be subject to him each night so that I may carry his children and pass on his name. I would lose my identity and forever be referred to as 'Sahl's wife' although the word wife might as well be substituted with the word 'possession'. Yes, I would rather go to Jerusalem.

I had only a shaky resolve at this point because I still clung to the notion that I may be able to change Sahl's mind. But another part of me knew this was most likely misguided. If Sahl had not broken off this wedding in the week prior to it, there was nothing to suggest he would break it off at this point, with only a few days to go. I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to leave. I would have to fend for myself, travel by myself, all things that struck fear into my heart. I would be vulnerable but I would be free.

This decision must have been written all over my face because Fatima suddenly became so cautious that I was not allowed to be unsupervised if I left the house for errands. Every time Hala, Inaya and I went into town, we were shadowed by Fatima's husband. The girls were delighted that their father was joining them but I knew he had ulterior motives and I knew it was because Fatima must have read my intent. I tried not to let it panic me, I felt like I could still slip away if needed because although Fatima was taking action against possible escapes, I could tell that she had not really committed to the idea that I might actually run away. She did not think I had the courage, or the stupidity, whichever it was. Most likely a bit of both.

And then, on the same day that I began to shakily prepare my escape, Fatima stopped the visits between Sahl and I, as a way of preventing me from jeopardising further our betrothal. I realised with a heavy and panicked heart that I would now have to run. I had no further access to Sahl and hence, no way to break up this engagement. I committed myself to flight but it made it no less petrifying. I decided that tomorrow, with three days until my wedding, that I would leave this place, leave this marriage and most problematically of all, leave any security behind. I would have no possessions, no money and no protection.

But I would have a modicum of freedom. And that was all I needed to convince myself.

I would do anything for freedom.

* * *

_My lovely, lovely readers! I have missed you! I greatly apologise for the delay but it has been hectic on this side of the pond (England that is :D). I have now officially finished school! I have completed my exams and now wait for the results that decide my future! I haven't applied to Uni this year, I'm taking a gap year to work and travel the world but I hope to do veterinary medicine next year, grades permitting! _

_On to notes about the story, I know this chapter took a while but the next chapter (which I feel will be the final one (sob)) will be out very soon because it's halway through at the moment and I have a lot of free time now! _

_Once again, you guys have been amazing. You're so kind and patient, always willing to wait for Miss SlowPoke over here even when she is inexcusably late with chapters. Please take the time to review, I read every single one of them, even if I sometimes don't reply to them and they mean the world to me, they really make me happy and motivate me so much! Whatever you have to say, please don't be afraid to do so. Review away my lovelies. I hop you are all well and I shall be back soon with a new chapter! _

_Minnie x_


	38. Chapter 38

**Chapter 38**

Today was the day. Today, I would leave all this commotion behind and escape this farcical marriage. The dread intermingled with the excitement in my stomach until I felt quite ill at the prospect. I had decided not to leave in the early morning because Maysaa was locked in the stables until Fatima woke up and let her out. To attempt to break her out of the stables would be a sure way to get caught. The dead bolt was loud to open and waking Maysaa up would shock her and she would no doubt cause a ruckus. I could not have risked that, so I had decided to wait until daylight. I also needed the morning to pilfer provisions for my journey.

When I woke up, I looked out from the window in the room I shared with the twins, and saw Maysaa standing passively in the field chewing grass and so I knew Fatima was awake. I felt the nervous anticipation increase with every minute until I was not sure whether I could move without being sick. Moving from the warmth of my pallet to the chill of the air felt like the boldest move I had ever made.

It was still very early; a pinkish light still clung to the horizon and it was pleasantly cool, so I was surprised to see that Fatima was not in the house. I crept like a fugitive through every room, my heightened senses on alert for any movement but there was no sign of her. I could hear the rattling snore of her husband and the gentle sighs of the twins but Fatima was nowhere to be found. I could hardly hide my grin. I could use this time to orchestrate the first part of my plan.

I crept quietly into the room next to Fatima's, where her two sons stayed when they returned home after their prolonged stays at sea. There were two simple pallets on the floor and a single table piled high with folded clothes. I went to the table and selected a tunic from the pile, along with a pair of shalwars that appeared to be as tall as I me. There was also a head scarf slung over a chair which would come in very useful for hiding my face. If I dressed like a man on the road, I hoped that I would have less chance of running into trouble.

I tucked the clothes under one arm and walked carefully down the stairs, avoiding the ones I knew to be particularly creaky. I padded quietly around the kitchen, delving into the pantry to extract cheese, bread, fruit and anything else that looked vaguely edible, but not enough to be noticeable if Fatima decided to check. With clothes and provisions taken care of, I stepped outside into the chilly air and walked to the stables were Maysaa's equipment was housed, waiting for her to come trotting over to me so I could prepare her for the journey. I brushed the mud from her coat and then saddled her up in utter silence, freezing in fear the moment I heard the slightest sound. My stomach was tied in knots and I almost found it hard to breathe effectively. I dug into her saddle bags and rooted around in them for objects of use. Suddenly, I felt a searing pain in my finger and pulled it out to reveal a gash that was leaking a surprising amount of blood.

"Damn!" I cried under my breath, sticking the finger quickly in my mouth to staunch the flow. With my other hand, I carefully pulled out the offending objects and realised them to be Altaïr's throwing knives. I felt my shoulders sag with memories. I held them in my good hand, careful not to cut myself again on their incredible double-sided blade. I looked at them longingly before wrapping them in a piece of gauze and placing them back in the saddle bags. I felt strangely comforted by them, as if I had a piece of Altaïr with me.

After a few minutes, the blood finally stopped flowing and I could resume my search for useful things. In the saddle bags, I found rope, my water skin and surprisingly, extra money that must have fallen out of the money pouch that now rested in the far more deserving hands of Johara, the young girl who saved my life in prison. The money jingling at the bottom of the saddle bags was enough to provide me with food for a good few weeks at least and so I was heartily thankful for it, considering moments ago I had next to nothing. I stuffed the clothes into one saddle bag, ready for later when I could change en route. I jammed my provisions haphazardly into the bags, slightly comforted in the knowledge that I had food and money for the journey.

With Fatima gone, it made this portion of the plan much easier. I led Maysaa at a jog around the very outskirts of the town, careful to avoid anywhere densely populated. In less than fifteen minutes I had run the whole length of the town, from Fatima's house to where the main path led out from Berothai into the dusty desert beyond, and it was here that I paid a temporary stable to house Maysaa. Here, she would wait until I was ready to leave. I planned to escape during one of our excursions into the souk, where I would slip away from Fatima's husband.

With my mount ready and waiting to depart, I ran full sprint back to Fatima's house for I had no idea when she may return and I had to be there when she did. Luckily, when I arrived back at the house, nothing had changed; the bellowing snore of Fatima's husband indicated that he still slept happily and the barely audible whispers of the twins' gentle breathing inferred the same.

Now that I had taken care of all I had to do for my escape, I sat at the table, strangely calm and resigned to my outlandish idea. I was committed now; my horse was ready, my belongings were packed and all I had to do now was slip away from the family while we were in the marketplace. I felt a pang of sadness at having to leave Hala and Inaya without saying goodbye, as I had become pleasantly attached to them; they were kind and gentle creatures, refreshingly unfettered by the hardships of life. However, there was nothing I could do and so I did not dwell upon it for long.

In a gentle daze, I sat at the table, feeling lightheaded and a little queasy, passively listening to the sounds of the twins rising and dressing, padding around overhead. Soon, they both glided down the creaky stairs to join me at the table.

"Good morning Asra." They chimed in a synchrony that never failed to impress me.

"Good morning." I smiled back, snapping out of my reverie at the sound of voices.

However, conversing beyond a simply 'good morning' seemed like a gargantuan effort for me so I stayed quiet. This did not seem to faze the twins, who happily gabbled on to each other regardless. Every now and then, they would direct a comment at me that I struggled to pick up on for a few awkward moments.

"I am ever so excited for your marriage Asra." Inaya commented softly. It was tentative and tinged with concern. The twins knew how I felt towards the marriage, yet social protocol dictated that they must be happy for me and so they tried to say nothing to the contrary.

"Yes." Hala interjected, "Sahl is a good man." She did not really sound all that convinced. She was right though, Sahl was a good man; but he was not Altaïr.

I listened to them politely but their comments made very little impression upon me; my mind was in another place entirely. I could not stop running through the plan in my head, visualising everything that could possibly go wrong until I was filled with fear at the prospect of even moving from the table. And so it was with difficulty that I stood up and followed the twins out of the house and into the centre of the city. Hala and Inaya's father loomed purposefully at the head of our group, gritting his teeth and no doubt counting down the days until I was wed and he could stop being forced to follow me into this hellish shopping district. Fatima had returned just before we left but she was in such a rush of planning that she paid no attention to me.

My heart hammered in my chest like a sprinter and I was painfully aware of everything around me. But the longer I walked through the stalls and the people, the less scared I began to feel. In the middle of such activity, you have no time to dwell on yourself; there are too many others to be concerned about. I walked a few steps behind the twins, smiling when Hala turned to me to express her delight at a bracelet she had just seen or nodding my head in agreement when Inaya complained of the all consuming heat. Their father marched on resignedly while the girls twittered around him like small, beautiful birds.

After an hour the twins' father - when he could take it no more - announced that today's shopping trip was over and that we would return post haste. My heart gave a wild leap as I realised this as the moment I was to leave. It was now or never. I glanced to Hala and Inaya, taking in the expression on their happy, innocent faces and felt a pang of guilt for leaving them. But there was no time for sentimental feelings.

I looked to my left and right where I was completely flanked by innumerable people milling around the streets. I had been carefully mapping our journey through the city as it happened and so I knew the direction I had to run to reach Maysaa. I took a deep breath, spared a glance at the twins and their father and darted to my right like cat that had been burned. I was off in a shot, letting the crowd envelop and conceal me, my heart racing with fear and exhilaration. In no time at all, I was faced with the wide road leading out of the city, Maysaa in view on my right. I stopped at this point, careful not to raise suspicion. I walked to her awkwardly. I was desperate to run. I thanked the man almost inaudibly and climbed on her back, hurryingly urging her on and out of the city. With my heart beating almost painfully and my stomach contorted in knots of fear, I trotted slowly down the road that led away from this place.

I glanced behind me, checking to see if I had been followed but was thankful that I could see no one I recognised. As soon as the village was out of my sight, I kicked Maysaa into a gallop. I felt a dizzying freedom. I had really run away. I had truly escaped that marriage! I felt joyful and not even the thoughts of what lay in store for me could dampen my elation at this moment.

After a few minutes I stopped in the shade of a small cypress tree to change discreetly into the clothes I had taken from Fatima's son. I angled Maysaa's bulk in front of my body so I could change with a modicum of decency. I was alone at the moment but that would change very quickly as merchants and travellers began to travel in their hoards towards Berothai. In fact, I was surprised that I was as alone as I was. Fortune seemed to be on my side this morning.

I pulled off my tunic and shalwars, replacing them with the ones I found in the house. Before I had even tied up and adjusted the shalwars, I could tell they were huge but they would have to do. My breasts were no longer distinguishable below the tent-like kameez and once I had fashioned my hair into a plait and tied the head scarf around my head, obscuring my face and hair, my gender was not easily discernable. I stuffed my clothes back into the saddle bags and cursed the beaded, feminine slippers on my feet as I stepped into the stirrups and settled into the saddle.

I felt a strange calm wash over me. I felt like the hard part was over and to endure my father would be nothing. I kicked Maysaa into a gentle canter and let my mind wander as she carried me away from Berothai. I did not even focus upon the road ahead; I closed my eyes. When my eyes were closed, it was as if a story had been projected onto my inner lids. My imagination was as clear as truth. Now, as I rode away from Berothai and all the madness within, my mind turned, as it always did, to Altaïr. I became heady on reflection of him. His voice sent ripples of desire through me and I could picture his glorious eyes. But all I wanted to do was just talk to him. I wanted to spend hours in his memories, I wanted to know all there was to know about him. I wanted to feel the liberty that I felt in his presence, the safety I felt in his arms and the warmth that I heard in his voice. I sagged under the weight of my memories but fought against the sadness that lurked on the fringes of my mind.

As it drew quickly to the middle of the day, I felt like the heat would burn a hole through my head. I was hot and uncomfortable and well aware of the dangers of travelling during this time. So I pulled Maysaa into a gentle walk and moved to the left where there was a cluster of large trees that could offer us shade and respite. I hopped off her back and leisurely tied her to the branches of one of trees with its low slung branches. I did not feel any urgency to reach my final destination. I rifled through the saddle bags, pulling out a shallow clay bowl that I had stolen from Fatima's cupboard. Guilt pricked for a moment but the feeling soon passed. I emptied a little bit of water into it and pushed it towards Maysaa who quickly caught on and gratefully lapped it up. I swigged a little myself before packing it back into the saddle bags. I had to be very careful not to run out before I reached somewhere else where I could refill. With Maysaa happily munching what grass she could glean from the largely sparse area, I lay down onto the dusty ground and stared upwards into the canopy of green.

Through the leaves, I could see the magnificent azure of the sky. I wished that Altaïr would take me there. I wanted to climb as high as possible and look up to the sky knowing that I was closest to it. I could not help but think of the life I might have had with him. The world would not have stayed so small for me if I had been with Altaïr. I would have travelled and partaken in the delights of cities I could only dream of; beautiful people I had no hope of understanding and countries with animals and plants I had never seen before. I would have been able to speak openly and honestly to someone who would accept my opinions and value my words. I would have been free. As it was, the freedom I had now was a falsehood. I had to return to my father if I was to live. I was not free. This thought weighed painfully on my mind, reminding me of its presence every time I dared to feel the lightness of what I thought was freedom's touch.

The hours flitted past in uneventful succession as I waited for the heat to lessen. I could only seem to think of Altaïr; if I tried to not think about him, I ended up thinking about how I was trying to _not_ think of him and it all became so convoluted and confusing that I simply decided to give up and release my mind to its imaginings, however painful they were. And every thought was like a needle upon my skin. I was filled with the bitter regret of what could have been. I knew that for the rest of my life, as happy as it may end up being, it would always be tinged with the sorrow of knowing that I could have been so much happier if I had been with Altaïr.

But for my own sake, I tried to not let that thought linger. I stood up with purpose and untied Maysaa's bridle from the branch, eager to get on the road and feel the breeze on my face so that maybe the thought would not trouble me so greatly. I stepped from the stirrup into the saddle and kicked her firmly onwards. Moving from the shade to the sun was intense but more bearable now than it had been but a few hours before. I closed my eyes again, trusting Maysaa to amble along the path herself.

In my head and my mind's eye, I began to dishearteningly plan my return to Jerusalem. I truly did not want to return but I could not afford to go anywhere else. I had no money, no means of survival, no roof over my head if I did not return to Jerusalem. Grudgingly I had to admit that my father was the only one I could turn to. Malik's death hit me with more acuity when I admitted such a thing. Malik would have been the one I could have turned to. As it was, I was left with my good-for-nothing father. I would never have had anything to do with this man if his blood did not run in my veins, a fact I was loathe to admit. Malik used to always joke that he was lucky not to be as tainted as I was, for he was less related to my father than I. I smiled at the nostalgia.

My eyes flickered open to survey the road and I spied a number of travellers walking towards Berothai, their sandaled feet kicking up sand that was instantly whisked away by the breeze. I furtively pulled the head scarf more over my face without realising I was doing it. Once I had offered them a polite but cursory nod and they had passed by, I closed my eyes again and dwelt on better times past; it made it much easier to live in the present. I always kept an ear open for the sounds of people passing me and there were many that did so. Most were on foot but every so often the rhythmic sound of hooves beating the sand reached me. The people trickled by with no bearing upon me.

The hours passed gently, streaming by like the people on the road. The heat had lessened to a comfortable degree but the sun was not yet ready to depart. The path had petered out an hour before and although I had not altered my course, I had begun to worry about where I was. I had been too upset on the way here to pay any attention to my surroundings, which had been very foolish. This was a rather distinct landscape, huge cedars and craggy rocks dominated it yet nothing was familiar to me. I decided to stop for a rest one last time before it got dark, to eat and drink a bit but also to climb up a particularly large cedar I had spotted. It was the largest I had seen and with its branches laid practically horizontal, it was be easily climbable and provide a perfect view of the surrounding landscape. I was fortunate that this area was surprisingly abundant in trees of all kinds. Some even bore fruit I recognised and as soon as I had led Maysaa to the large cedar and tethered her up, I plucked off as many as I could reach and ate them gratefully. I passed a few to Maysaa who ate them with just as much glee.

When Maysaa and I had supped and drank a little, I looked for a way up this surprisingly tall tree. It had huge thick branches, perfect for supporting my weight and it did not have leaves, but spines instead that were thick and provided dense cover so I would not be seen shimmying my way up its trunk. I did not want to raise suspicion. To climb onto the first branch though, I was going to need assistance; it was too high for me alone.

"Sorry Maysaa." I said guiltily as I used the stirrups as steps to climb onto her back. I planted my feet as firmly as I could onto of the saddle but if she so much as sniffed I was almost certainly going to come tumbling down. I stood up as straight as I could and managed to wrap my arms around its lowest branch just before Maysaa shifted and swept my feet from under me.

"Bloody horse!" I cursed under my breath as I was left dangling nearly ten feet off the ground with nothing but hard and unforgiving ground to break my fall. Maysaa happily munched the sparse flora beneath me without a single glance in my direction. I managed to swing my body a little and wrap my legs around the same branch, leaving me clinging to the underside of it and cursing my unhelpful mount. I worked my leg around the branch and pulled myself up into a sitting - and much more stable - position. I breathed a sigh of relief; disaster had been averted.

From here, the branches were densely packed, offering me a wealth of options for climbing, even though I had to battle against the spiny needle-like leaves. I started to feel the child in me rejoice and I could not stop grinning as I ascending higher and higher. Eventually, through the spiny leaves, I began to see the landscape beyond and I walked carefully to the end of one of the branches to get a better look. From here I could see much further, even being able to make out a small town in the distance. I decided that even if the way I was travelling was not right, if I made it to the town, someone would be able to direct me towards Jerusalem.

With my mind a little more at ease, I began the slightly more difficult journey down the tree, slipping a few too many times for comfort. These ridiculous beaded slippers were most certainly not made for the rather unladylike activity of tree climbing. As I neared the lower branches, I could make out the sound of a horse walking nearby. I stopped and waited for it to pass but the sound suddenly became much louder. They were coming closer.

I felt my heart beat a little faster. In utter silence, I calmly climbed down a few more branches. I cursed this tree for the branches were so thick and the spines so dense that I could not see much of the floor below. I saw the activity below like shadows on a wall. It was barely discernable, only shapes moving through a cover of dense leaves. But I felt my heart leap as I heard the sound of hooves coming ever closer. I suddenly realised what must be happening; they were going to steal my horse!

I felt such indignation at this prospect. Maysaa was all I had and I would be damned if I would let her be taken. Not to mention that every worldly possession of mine was in her saddle bags! I refused to let another part of my life fail completely. I could make out Maysaa's rump from where I was standing on the branch and then suddenly, the sound of the horses hooves stopped and came to rest almost directly below the branch I was standing on. I felt my heart beat in my chest and it was as if my mouth was made of sand. I would fight for her, of that I was most certain.

There was no time to evaluate the true stupidity of what I was about to do, as I heard the person take their feet out of their stirrups and realised my planning time was up. All I had was the element of surprise. With abject terror, I launched myself blindly from the safety of my branch, landing squarely on the persons broad shoulders, wrapping my legs around their head and dragging them flailing from their mount in a flurry of cedar pines and yells. It was quite a stunning manoeuvre if I do say so myself. So horribly stupid though.

I yelped as we fell hard on the ground and the man whose shoulders I so unceremoniously attacked, grunted in surprise. I felt my back and shoulder throb in protest to falling so hard. The horses jerked in fear, whinnying and kicking up dust that clouded around us and pricked at my eyes.

I had no time to really see anything. It was pure luck I had landed on him as successfully as I had done. My heart was beating so fast I feared it may simply give up through over working. I was about to release my legs and jump up to make my escape but this person moved so fast. In a flurry of movement and limbs, I went from a reasonably strong position to being pinned on the ground. Strong hands forced my arms up over my head and tightened around them to stop me flailing. I felt fear replace bravado quite rapidly.

And then I think my heart did stop.

I could barely believe what I saw above me. The person I saw above was not a common thief or bandit but the man that I loved.

"Altaïr…" I struggled to form the syllables. My lips stumbled awkwardly over a name I had not voiced for an eternity. My jaw slackened and my eyes widened, partly in disbelief and partly to take in his every detail. I could not tell if my heart had started again.

I could even see the disbelief in his eyes. A mere moment ago he had been preparing to smash my face in for my ambush but now he was, like me, frozen in incredulity.

I can barely describe what passed between us in that moment but a thousand questions flashed in our eyes.

"_What are you doing here?" "Where have you come from?" "What has taken you so long?" "Do you love me?" "Are you hurt?"_

But words did not seem to be enough. Our lips moved but no words escaped them.

His lips captured mine in an all consuming, fervent kiss of supplication and desire. I responded with disbelief and delight in equal measure. Everything went unsaid but there was nothing we did not understand. I could feel his remorse and his sadness on my lips and I knew he could sense my forgiveness. Explanations could wait. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him closer to me. It was like I was in a completely different world. There was no one but me and him and the love that passed between us. He stood up, taking my hands in his own and pulling me up straight into his arms.

"I'm so sorry Asra." He whispered. I moved my lips from his, tipping my head up to look in his eyes.

"Shh." I chided. "All is forgiven."

"But I should never have left you. I made such a mistake." He continued and I could feel that the guilt hung heavily over him.

"You have atoned for it ten times over." I sighed in contentment. I brought my hands to his face and smoothed my thumb over his jaw. His face was wrought and tired but there was no mistaking his relief as he saw that I was his again. I had always been his.

"Thank you." I said wholeheartedly.

"It is I who should be thanking you." He whispered, kissing me gently on the forehead as if this moment might shatter.

"No, you came back for me." I replied.

"I could not have stayed without you." He confessed. His voice was deep and truthful.

I felt every fear I had dissolve in an instant. The relief of this mingled with the joy of reunion made tears fall from my eyes. Altaïr kissed the corners of my eyes as if to stop the tears.

If I had not been in Altaïr's arms, I feared I might float away from the joy. I felt a tangible lightness from the absence of fear and loss. I tipped my head back to look at him, drinking in every detail of his appearance that I had longed for. The scar to the right of his lips was comforting and familiar. He seemed to me now, more handsome than he had ever appeared before. I looked into his eyes, trying to see what he was thinking. His eyes took in my face with a longing I had never seen before. He lamented the time that had been lost between us as much as I.

"Come with me Asra," His lips brushed against my cheek, "to Masyaf."

I could not speak for a few moments and when I did, it was barely more than a whisper.

"Is that what you truly want?" I asked, more than a little afraid of the answer. Try as I might I could not forget the things he had said to me on our journey to Berothai.

"More than anything." He affirmed ardently. "I never wanted you to leave. I was acting misguidedly. I had convinced myself I was doing the right thing but I was being foolish."

I did not speak for a few moments, but let his words settle in my mind. I had begun to believe everything would be alright.

"Altaïr. If you will have me, I want for nothing more than to be by your side." Both my hands rested on his chest and I could feel his heart.

"Asra," my name from his lips was the most beautiful sound, "I love you. I have done so for longer than I can say." He kissed my cheek as if to confirm to himself that I was still there. "I have wanted to say those words to you for a long time."

"And I have wanted to hear them for just as long." I smiled.

His faced relaxed a little and a small smile played on his lips. His eyes had softened and did not seem so impenetrable as before.

"So you will come with me?" He asked hopefully. As if I would do anything else.

"Nothing would make me happier." I replied. He wrapped his muscular arms around me and I rested lightly against his chest. I felt so utterly content I did not care if I never moved from this position. After a moment, he relaxed his grip a little and captured my gaze with his own.

"I knew I recognised your horse," he mused, "but you make for the worst man I have ever seen." He finished, almost seriously. He had so far resisted asking me why I was dressed as a man but I knew the question was to come and I dreaded it.

"I did what I could with very limited resources!" I smiled.

"You are far too beautiful to ever make a convincing man." He replied smoothly, deftly untying the head scarf and throwing it onto Maysaa's saddle.

I could not help breaking into a wide smile. This was the Altaïr I had longed for so much; the man with whom I could joke and laugh so freely.

"I have missed you so, Altaïr."

"And I you. More than I ever wanted to admit." We were quite for a few moments, simply enjoying the contact of our bodies.

After another moment he said: "We should go, it will be dark in a few more hours."

I nodded my agreement and with no hesitation, untied Maysaa. I felt an almost overwhelming freedom. To have Altaïr back beside me was the one thing I had considered the greatest impossibility, yet here he stood. I felt as if there was nothing that could not be achieved now. I could not keep my eyes from him. I was still in awe at his arrival. I felt my heart well with gratitude towards him, knowing he had been travelling to take me back.

Although I wished he had never left me, I could not hold his actions against him, no matter how much they had pained me, for I understood his motivations entirely.

I had realised while I had been in Berothai that it did not only come down to his duty as an Assassin or even his duty to Malik. There had been more to it than that alone. He had watched his brothers killed and his home ransacked because of a woman who had loved him. No wonder he had decided that he should forgo his relationship with me. The only relationship he had ever known had ended in brutality and destruction. He was cautious, maybe even a little scared, of the consequences it could have for his brothers. And I could not hold it against him.

All that mattered was that he was here now. It was as if none of the Berothai debacle had ever occurred. Even to me at this moment it felt like nothing more than a distantly recalled dream.

It seemed that silently, but mutually, we had decided to walk together. We did not mount our horses but took their reins in our hands and led them forward, both of us walking side by side.

"I almost hesitate to ask," began Altaïr after a few paces, "but why did you ambush me from a tree and why are you dressed as a man?"

I smiled awkwardly. "I did not know it was you. I thought you were an opportunist trying to relieve me of my horse." I explained. It sounded fairly reasonable to me. "And it is safer to look like a man on the road."

"You are quite incredible," He said affectionately. I smiled at the compliment but could not quite agree.

"It was quite fantastically stupid." I replied.

"Of course it was. But I knew you were already aware of that." He agreed. His voice took on a more serious tone when he asked his next question.

"And where were you going?"

I sensed the attempt to inject a lightness of tone to his words but he failed.

"Jerusalem." I conceded unwillingly, "to my father."

His expression remained largely indiscernible as he waited for my explanation.

"I would have rather stayed with my father than go through with the marriage that Malik's kinsmen had arranged for me." My voice was more than a little embittered.

Shock was an emotion that defied the muscular capabilities of Altaïr's but he did look incredibly taken aback. "They had arranged you a marriage?"

"It is meant to be in a few days. I had to escape." I sighed. I glanced to my left and was presented with a face of thunder.

"I am so blind!" he cursed, "I never even thought of that possibility!"

The remorse that had disappeared for a moment glared again in his eyes. I had never seen him so penitent.

"It was not your fault. Neither of us could have foreseen that!" I professed.

"They certainly wasted no time." He said lowly. His left hand gripped a little too hard on the reigns.

"Calm yourself. I escaped did I not?" I finished lightly, eager to move on and never think about it again.

His eyes remained trained forward but a wistful smile of admiration touched his lips. "Indeed you did. It is that spirit that made me fall in love with you."

His candid admission astonished me but I tried not to let it show.

"You seem to be surprised by that." Altaïr commented casually.

'_Dammit_!' I cursed in my head.

"I have just…I…I've…" I began awkwardly, "I've never heard you speak so openly about me."

"I have held back, that much is sure," He conceded, "Before, I had a sense of duty I could not displace. I tried, and often failed, to not show how I felt about you. My mission had been to take you to Berothai and nothing; neither death nor love was going to stop me from going through with it."

"But I was wrong." He admitted, turning to look at me. "It was not the mission. It was my own blindness and the fear of the unknown. And now I want to make up for the time I have lost with you. I have put you through so much - put you in danger countless times - and you deserve much more than the treatment I have afforded you."

I listened to him in silence, appreciative and humbled by his sincere words. I felt nothing towards Altaïr but love and appreciation. Nothing mattered to me except that he loved me and that he had returned for me. That was not going to stop me verbally berating him for leaving me in the first place but that could wait.

Although I knew he still felt guilty about my stint in the Merchant King's Palace and the other drama that had befallen me, I considered all of those things as simply experiences that I had survived and moved on from. My time with Altaïr may have been, in some places, the most frightening time of my life but it had also been the happiest. Being with Altaïr made up for all that I had been through.

"You have afforded me the happiest moments of my life Altaïr. You have nothing to feel guilty for." I said softly, hoping that my words might heal his guilt a little.

He sighed; a little in scepticism and a little in resignation. "You are the kindest, most merciful person I have met Asra." He said. I felt my skin flushing a little. I was not used to this affection from him and although it was wanted, I not entirely sure how to react to it. I smiled in reply, feeling happily humbled by his words.

"How are your men?" I asked in concern, realising I had not asked earlier.

His expression hardened. I did not want to bring up the topic that affected him but I needed to know. I had not realised how strongly I felt for these men.

"They are recovering and I have not lost any more. The town is slowly picking itself off the ground. It will be a while yet until we are back at full force but we achieved something incredible against the Templars. That much has to be rejoiced."

I could not help it but I thought of Livanya. I knew she would not have wanted it but I pitied her. I harboured a strong resentment towards her but it was gradually being conquered by the pity. Since I too had felt what it was like to love and to lose, I could not be so harsh towards her. There was no denying she had made the most grievous and selfish mistake, but she was a woman blinded by love and I felt for her.

I wondered grimly what had happened to her. If how I saw her for the last time was anything to go by, her melancholy would have been unconquerable and she had most likely done something rash. I shuddered at the thought but I had a terrible suspicion that she might have taken her own life. I could not be sure but there had been nothing in her eyes. She had been utterly empty. I did hope, in all honesty, that it had not come to that. I did not wish to see her again but I wished her a life with more happiness that she had experience so far.

However, I was relieved to hear the Assassin's were recovering. I felt excited at the prospect of being able to live among them; I greatly admired and respected them.

My attention was diverted as we came over the crest of a sizeable hill when I spied a watchtower not far in the distance. It was considerably high but abandoned and looking a little worse for wear. I suddenly remembered a thought that had captured me not long ago.

"Altaïr." I said, my eyes trained on the distant building.

"Yes?"

"Will you take me there?" It sounded odd to even my own ears but it was an idea that I could not shake.

He followed my gaze to the tower.

"To the watchtower?" He asked, a little baffled by my train of thought.

"Yes, to the top of it." I replied. "Please."

"I think you overestimate how strong I am." He commented but I could tell by the tone of his voice that he would be willing.

"Will you?"

"Of course." He smiled. "But with any luck the door shall be unlocked."

"Thank you." I laughed; I too hoped that he would not have to scale the tower with me on his back.

I was glad that he did not ask for a reason. I did not have one. But the same thought popped into my head that had done many hours before: _'I wished that Altaïr would take me to the magnificent azure sky. I wanted to climb as high as possible and look up to the sky, knowing that I was closest to it._'

When we reached the square tower and had tethered our horses to a nearby tree, Altaïr looked up the stony length of it with an appraising look.

"Will you be all right?" I asked, apprehensively glancing up and down the tower. It was awfully high and I worried that Altaïr may not be able to scale it with me hindering his progress, if it came to that. But I wanted to go there with him.

He walked to the thick wooden door and pushed at the handle but it did not move and inch, despite its fragile appearance. He shoved it hard with his shoulder but it would not give way. It seemed that although it had been abandoned, it had not been left unfortified.

"Then we shall have to climb." He said cordially. When I nodded but did not move he said:

"Your transport awaits my lady." He smiled and crouched down so that I could climb onto his back more easily.

"I am sorry Altaïr. I did not mean to abuse you like this." I professed as I sprung onto his back and felt his hands close around my thighs as he stood up.

"It is an honour to be abused by you in this way." He grinned as I clasped my legs tightly around his waist and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, careful not to hold on too tightly around his neck.

"Am I heavy?" I asked concerned.

"No, you are like an angel's breath." He replied, barely concealing the sarcastic grin.

"You cad!" I laughed as he placed his foot on a misaligned brick, using it as leverage to reach the doorpost and pull himself up onto the small ledge. From there, there were only small cracks and the odd prominent brick to use and I could feel the effort of his back and shoulder muscles as I held on to him. I was not scared at all, I trusted him completely. Not that there weren't a few heart-stopping moments.

Amazingly, it did not take him long to reach the top, even with me on his back but the effort was immense. His fingers struggled to delve into cracks and the absence of frequent footholds meant he had to rely on incredible upper body strength. When we finally grappled our way over the top of the battlements, I could not help but marvel at his ability.

"That was amazing!" I cried as I jumped off his back completely unaffected and he flopped over onto the hay covered ground, arms outstretched and breathing heavily. I lay down on the ground next to him, nestled into his side and looked up in awe of the sky.

It was blue but only just; pinks and other vibrant hues had started to creep in as the sun prepared its descent. It was a stunning sight and I could not believe my luck that I was watching it while next to Altaïr. This morning, I had thought I would never see him again and now, I lay by his side, calm, comforted and safe.

"Thank you." I whispered softly, grateful beyond words that he had fulfilled this desire for me.

"I will do whatever makes you happy." He paused, a smile touching his lips, "However odd the request." He continued, laughing. I poked his cheek in protest and laughed with him.

"It is beautiful though, isn't it?" I marvelled, looking up to the dimming, lively sky like a child, studying the clouds that morphed and contorted in front of my eyes.

"It is." He agreed, undoing the belt that held his sword to his hip, sliding it it to the edge and then pulling me closer into his left side, resting his hand on my thigh. With his right hand he pulled of his hood and ruffled his hair in relief, sighing in contentment.

The night was warm and balmy with no hint of humidity. It was the perfect temperature for sleeping out in the open.

"Can we stay here tonight?" I asked.

"I was about to suggest the same." He replied, "But if that is the case, I will go and get some supplies." He stood up and jumped onto the parapet in one movement, judging the ground below with a calculated eye. I sat up and walked to the battlements too, looking up to my right where Altaïr stood and then down to the distant ground.

My eyes caught the large mound of hay just as his did.

"You cannot be serious!" I cried incredulously, my eyes jumping back and forward between the hay and Altaïr in alarm.

"I am always serious." He grinned. The irony was too much and I had to laugh, but it quickly became a gasp as Altaïr sprung up and off the parapet, launching himself into a dive before quickly, at the very last moment, turning onto his back and landing in the bale of hay. I leaned over as far as I could, scanning the hay bale, praying that I did not see bits of Altaïr strewn all over the ground.

"YOU ARE AN IDIOT!" I yelled irately the moment he stood up and brushed himself off. He looked up towards me, picked a stray piece of hay out of his dark hair and bowed, as if inviting my praise and admiration.

"HA." I scorned, remaining stoically unmoving.

I rested my elbows on the parapet, craning my head down to watch his progress. He went about preparing the horses for the evening, removing the bit from their mouth and giving them a longer tether. I saw him pull a blanket and half a loaf of bread out of Khalil's saddle bags before turning to mine and pulling out anything useful I had, including the fruit, the cheese and the water skin. He put all the food into the blanket and slung it over his shoulder.

Without me on his back, the climb seemed effortless, although, watching him I think his speed was more to do with the stupid risks he would take when on his own. My heart was in my mouth watching him climb; he jumped and darted all over the place, flinging himself up the tower like the strong, young, often over-confident man that he was.

As soon as he neared the top, I leant over so I was face to face with him and smiled coquettishly, taking his face in my hands and kissing him deeply. It felt a little as if he was my rescuer, scaling the tower to save me and so I awarded him accordingly. I drew away from him and smiled, taking supplies from his hand, laying the blanket over the hay and setting down the food to the side.

He climbed lithely over the parapet, his leather boots making almost no sound as he strode over the stones and pulled me into his arms. He kissed the top of my head and then, taking me by the hand, pulled me down to sit on the cushioned blanket of hay. We delved hungrily into our food store, laying out fruit and cheeses with slightly too hard bread. It was most certainly not the best meal I had ever tasted but to be sitting here eating again with Altaïr was not something I ever expected to experience again, and so every bite tasted a little bit sweeter. We sat opposite each other, Altair resting one arm casually on his knee with an air of satisfaction about him, as if he was completely happy with all that he had. I felt the same way. I was completely and utterly happy with everything. Nothing could quell the uplifting sense of freedom and happiness I felt. I had all that I wanted, more than I ever thought I could have. I was a very lucky woman.

"What are you thinking?" Altaïr asked with a languid grin, making me think he was only asking out of courtesy for what should be the the sanctity of my thoughts, for he evidently already knew.

"That I am very lucky." I replied frankly.

"I am the lucky one." Altaïr contended, "I have done nothing to deserve a woman as kind-hearted, brave and beautiful as you."

"Oh hush now!" I asserted hastily, chewing off a big chunk of bread.

"It is true!" He protested good-naturedly. I conceded with a smile and leant over to him, lightly pressing my lips to his. He brought his hand against me cheek, stroking it lightly with his thumb, prolonging the kiss until I was breathless with desire. He leaned towards me, lightly easing me back until I lay back on the blanket. My arms ascended to his neck and I pulled him down towards me, caressing the nape of his neck and feeling the crispness of his short hair. He kissed my neck and my throat and caressed my thigh with his strong hand. I felt on his back for the buckles that held his leather armour on, nimbly undoing the straps and throwing it to the side, pulling away the red sash that sat under it.

"You are too much." He murmured, his voice deep and hoarse with desire that made me shiver. He pulled off his outer robes until he lay above me in nothing but his shalwars. I could not stop myself from touching his chest with something akin to reverence. His chest was perfect in form, like that of a Greek statue, marred only by the scars that told of his life. My hands flitted over the muscles of his chest, tracing my fingers over the scars like I had done so many months before when he had first kissed and held me. As if in exchange, he eased my shirt over my head and I felt the balmy coolness of the approaching night on my bare skin. I did not feel any embarrassment; Altaïr did not give me time to feel anything but pleasure. He lightly touched his fingers to my forehead, brushing away some loose strands of hair.

"You are beautiful." He whispered, his voice pleasantly reverberating in my ear.

I smiled and clutched his broad back, holding him gently against me, feeling his muscles move beneath my hands as he stroked my hair. I felt his hand trail over my stomach to my shalwars, pulling the chord that held them on. He had no trouble in pulling the loose garments off, they were already far too big for me. He brushed his hand across my naked thigh, eliciting a

small sigh of contentment from me that made him murmur in pleasure.

He looked deeply into my eyes for a moment, perhaps searching them, perhaps admiring them, I could not tell. All I could see was that there was love there. I could feel the love burning behind my eyes too and I knew he could see it.

There, in the perfect warm night, the two of us alone in the wilderness, nought but stars and a hint of the moon above, I gave him everything I had to give.

* * *

When I woke up the following morning, the feeling of Altaïr's arm pulling my into his side was heavenly. My finger moved in absent minded shapes on his tanned chest and I smiled to myself when I thought of the night before. I felt quite assured there could not possibly be a higher power who punished us based on our moral actions, for if that had been the case, I would have been struck down there and then. I had lain with a man out of wedlock but had not the slightest inclination to be ashamed, I loved him too much and it had been too wonderful. I had never felt closer to him than I did now.

Last night, we had talked of all that had happened in the lead up to us finding each other again; asked all the questions we wanted to ask and received all the answers we needed. I was loved and of that, I was completely sure. And in turn I loved every part of him, even though it had taken me a while to come to terms with his life. But this was who he was and in a way, I felt pride for his conviction. He was force and not words, action instead of passiveness in the face of injustice. I both loved and respected him. In the beginning I had feared him but I could never be scared of him now. I had seen too much of who he really was. To those who had reason to fear him, he was fearsome. But to those that he cared for there was nothing but respect and kindness afforded to them. He was, quite simply, a man worthy of the love that I had for him.

When I thought back to before I met Altaïr, I saw a girl who was ignorant to the world but largely untouched by its evils. Now, I had seen many things, experienced many things I never wanted to experience again and even had the scars to prove it but I could never for a moment regret meeting him. He had protected me from a further world of ill, taking me away from a life my father had planned for me that was too horrific to think of, something which I had only learned of recently.

Dutifully, following Malik's original mysterious note, I had not asked any questions and soon, preoccupation with exploration and my travelling companion had banished all thoughts of that nature from my mind. I had found myself not caring about the reason for my hasty and rough departure from Jerusalem. All I had ended up caring about was Altaïr and the enigma that he had proven to be.

And as soon as he awoke, we would depart for a different life. My worries would be left behind to live a life I could never have predicted. I was delighted at the thought of living with Altaïr in Masyaf. It was his home, his life and I felt closer to him when I walked within its walls. The Assassins were men I could never have predicted to be so respectful and courteous, yet they had turned out to be quite wonderful. I wanted to learn more about each of them at to be able to walk amongst them as a friend, respected and cared for in the way I already respected and cared for them.

Next to me I felt Altaïr sigh and move, half asleep, half aware as he turned on his side and we came face to face with only a few inches between us.

"Good morning." He smiled, stretching to kiss my forehead tenderly and tucking my hair gently behind my ear.

"Good morning." I replied brightly, resting my head on one arm while I laid the other around his neck, caressing the nape of his neck.

"That feels good." He murmured sleepily. After a few minutes he said: "We will leave soon" But without any real conviction, he was enjoying my touch too much to want to move.

"There is no rush." I replied in a whisper, pressing my body to the length of his, enjoying the contact and the closeness between us.

"Are you certain that you wish to come with me?"

"Do not ask stupid questions." I countered. He chuckled.

"Then let us depart." He replied standing up with sudden vigour and buckling his armour back on, "I want you in my bed before sundown tomorrow." He said, flashing me a charming smile and winking as he pulled his boots on.

I blushed and gave him a shove as I stood up, nearly unbalancing him as he bent down to buckle his boots. Key word being 'nearly'; I could no more have pushed him over than a rolling boulder could have.

"You should be so lucky!" I challenged coquettishly, wrapping up the blanket and slinging it over my shoulder, slipping my feet into the beaded slippers.

"Oh, I would be." He agreed seductively, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist, pressing warm kisses onto my neck.

"Hmm." I murmured absentmindedly. Every time he touched me I felt unable to actually form a sentence.

When all was packed and readied, I hopped onto Altaïr's back and we scaled back down the tower. I was thoroughly glad he had not asked me to jump. The horses were awake and ready to ride.

Altaïr looked at the tower appraisingly just before we departed.

"I think I shall remember this tower." He mused fondly, turning to flash me a wickedly charming smile.

"I do not think I shall forget it either." I smiled back without a hint of embarrassment even though I knew full well what he was referring to.

Together he and I mounted our horses, feeling the soft breeze on our faces. Altaïr looked at me, and smiled like he had never done before. It was the gentlest most affectionate smile I had ever seen. He looked at me with all the love in the world.

"Are you sure you want to leave with me?" He said it with such tenderness; he truly wanted me to do exactly what I wanted, even if it was not in his favour.

I looked at him, studying his handsome features for a few moments before smiling.

"Stop asking questions like that. You are starting to sound like a big girl's petticoat!"

With a final flourish, I kicked Maysaa into action and she raced down the road, throwing up a flurry of dust and pebbles. She had an eagerness that matched my own. I heard Altaïr not far behind in hot pursuit and I laughed into the breeze.

The sun was shining, the sky was blue and I felt free and eager to begin my life. I thought of Malik and smiled with joy and sadness in equal measure. I only wished he could see me now; I knew he would be glad to see me so happy and it was all because of him. I would never be able to express my gratitude but he had known that I loved him greatly and so I would be content with that.

Altaïr came up beside me and glanced towards him, smiled with all my heart and then looked forward.

* * *

_First off, I am so sorry this has taken me so long but I wrestled for a long time with this chapter, never happy with it and it went through a lot of changes! Team that with lots of personal things going on and you get a very long wait for updates! So for that, I apologise. (This chapter is an absolute whopper though! I don't know if this is a good thing or not….)_

_Secondly….This is the end it seems! I can't believe it! It has been such a journey and I can't thank you guys enough for coming along with me. I've never written anything before this so I thank you for ignoring its faults and enjoying what I wanted to convey. You guys have really made it for me, honestly. I could not have kept on going if I hadn't had the incredibly support of you lovely people. You have pointed out my errors, offered me wonderful criticism that will stay with me always, and left such sweet and kind reviews._

_I really hope you have enjoyed the ride! It's been bumpy sometimes and I'm still learning but I think this has been such an experience for me. I want to write a novel one day and I consider this a fantastic starting point. I hope I can get even better! Wait for it guys, one day you might see my book in stores! That's the dream!_

_It's quite hard to let this story go, it's been such a big part of my life for a very long time now! (Quite a few years, that's for sure!) But, I've enjoyed it immensely and can't wait to do it again some time!_

_Thank you all so much, you've been really special._

_Minnie, signing out for the last time!_


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